CIHM 

ICIMH                              1 

Microfiche 

Collection  de 

Series 

microfiches 

(IVIonographs) 

(monographies) 

1 

1 

i 
i 

1 

Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microraproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historiquas 


©1996 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  technique  et  bibliographlques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


0 

D 

□ 

D 
D 
0 

0 

D 

D 

D 

n 


Coloured  covers  / 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged  / 
Couverture  endommagee 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restauree  et/ou  pellicula 

Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material  / 
Reli^  avec  d'autres  documents 

Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  edition  disponible 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serr^e  peut 
causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de 
la  marge  interieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoratk>ns  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
been  omitted  from  filming  /  II  se  peut  que  certaines 
pages  blanches  ajoutdes  lors  d'une  restauration 
apparaissent  dans  le  texte,  mais,  k>rsque  cela  6taH 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  ^  filmdes. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  examplaire  qu'il  lui  a 
ete  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire  qui  sont  peut-§tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  nrradifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  nnodifications  dans  la  m6th- 
ode  normale  de  filmage  sont  indiques  ci-dessous. 

r~]     Coloured  pages  /  Pages  de  couleur 

I     I      Pages  damaged  /  Pages  endommagees 

I     I      Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
' — '      Pages  restaur6es  et/ou  pellicul^es 

r^      Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
Pages  decolorees,  tachet^s  ou  piquees 

I     I      Pages  detached/ Pages  d6tachees 

r~7'     Showthrough  /  Transparence 

I     1     Quality  of  print  varies  / 

' — '     Quality  inegale  de  I'impression 

I     I      Includes  supplementary  material  / 

Comprend  du  materiel  suppiementaire 

I  1  Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
—  slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image  /  Les  pages 
totalement  ou  partiellement  obscurcies  par  un 
feuillet  d'en^ta,  une  pelure,  etc.,  ont  6\6  filmdes 
k  nouveau  de  fa?on  a  obtenir  la  meilleure 
image  possible. 

I  j  Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
' — '  discolourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the 
best  possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant 
ayant  des  colorations  variables  ou  des  decol- 
orations sont  film^es  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la 
meilleur  image  possible. 


D 


AdcBtional  comments  / 
Commentaires  suppi^mentairBs: 


This  item  is  f  ilmad  at  th*  rtduetion  ratio  chackad  balow/ 

C«  doctimant  Mt  filmi  au  taux  de  riduction  indiqut  ci-dt»ous. 

1SX 


10X 


n: 


14X 


J 


12X 


16X 


20X 


22X 


26X 


30X 


24X 


28  X 


32X 


Th«  copy  filmed  h«r«  ha*  b««n  raproducad  thanks 
to  tha  ganareaity  of: 

^'atiOIUll  Library  of  Canada 


L'axamplaira  film4  fut  raprodutt  grica  i  la 
g*nirosit*  da: 

Blbllotheque  nationala  du  Canada 


Tha  imagas  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
poMibIa  considaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  apacifications. 


Oribinal  copias  in  printad  papar  covara  ara  filmad 
baginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa* 
•ion,  or  tha  back  covar  whan  approprlata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impras- 
sion,  and  anding  on  tha  last  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illustratad  imprassion. 


Tha  last  racordad  irama  on  aach  microficha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  »^  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED").  or  tha  symbol  ▼  (moaning  "END"). 
whichavar  applias. 


Las  imagas  suivantas  ont  *ti  raproduitas  avac  la 
plus  grand  soin,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattat*  da  l'axamplaira  f  ilm«,  at  an 
conformity  avac  laa  conditions  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 

Las  axamplairas  originaux  dont  la  couvsnurs  an 
papiar  ast  imprimOa  sont  filmas  an  commancant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darniira  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'imprassion  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tous  laa  autras  axamplairas 
originaux  sont  filmAs  an  commandant  par  la 
pramiAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'imprassion  ou  d'illustration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darniira  paga  qui  comporta  una  taila 
amprainta. 

Un  daa  symbolaa  suivants  spparaitra  sur  la 
darniira  imaga  da  chaqua  microficha,  salon  la 
cas:  la  symbols  ^-^  signifia  "A  SUIVRE".  la 
aymboia  ▼  aignifia  "FIN". 


Maps,  platas,  charu,  ate.  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratios.  Thosa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  includad  in  ona  axposura  ara  filmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar,  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bonom,  as  many  framas  as 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrams  illustrata  tha 
mathod: 


Las  cartas,  planchas.  tablaaux.  ate.  pauvant  atra 
filmte  A  daa  taux  da  rOduction  diffOrants. 
Lorsqua  la  documant  ast  trap  grsnd  pour  atra 
raproduit  an  un  saul  clichO.  il  ast  filma  A  partir 
da  I'angla  supiriaur  gaucha.  da  gaucha  k  droita. 
at  da  haut  an  baa.  mn  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagaa  n^cassaira.  Las  diagrammaa  suivants 
illustrant  la  mOthoda. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MICROCOPY   RiSOlUTKJN   TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


1^ 

150 
|M 


US 


■  2.8      12.5 

If  1^ 

14^     12.0 


1.8 


^  /1PPLIED  IIVMGE    In- 

SS:  1653  East  Main  Street 

r.S  Rochester.  New  York        14609      USA 

^B  (716)   482  -  0300  -  Phone 

^S  (716)  288-  5989  -Fax 


\\ 


■^ 


ift 


^} 


•iV^ug 


^iJ 


*'"'■:.■. 


1 


i 


kd 


,, ,  f 

1 1 


m 


EPITAPHS,  EPIGRAMS,  AND  OTHER 
EPHEMERA 


:   m 


i  » 


1 


EPITAPHS,  EPIGRAMS 

and  other 

EPHEMERA 


By 


George  Graham  Currie 


THE  DREW  PRESS 

JACKSONVILLE,  FLORIDA 

MCMXU 


P53505 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1912 
by  George  Graham  Currie,  in  the  office  of 
the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washingtc 


ton. 


TO  MY  FRIEND  AND  CLIENT 

WILLIAM    DISSTON 

(of  palm  beach,  FLA.  AND  PHILADELPHIA,  PA.) 

This  Book  and  its  Companion  Volumes  are 
Respectfully  Inscribed  : 

Not  that  such  an  inscription  can  add  anything  to  Mr. 
Disston's  importance  in  the  industrial  world  or  to 
his  generally  recognized  h.gh  character  wherever 
he  is  known,  but  because  it  gives  the  author  an 
opportunity   of  thus  publicly  showing  his  ap- 
preciation of  the   ma    ■'   kindnesses   he    has 
received  at  Mr.  Disston's  hands  and  affords 
him    the  pleasure   of   reciprocating   his 
benefactor's  confidence  in  a  manner 
that  money  may  not  buy. 


»^ 


CONTENTS 

ACROSTIC  AND  AUTOGRAPH  VERSES. .  .105-116 

EPITAPHS 117-129 

EPIGRAMS  ON  VARIOUS  OCCASIONS 131-165 

POEMS 1-104 

Bachelor's  Hall— A  Song 102-103 

"Beaver",  The 63-64 

Because  Of  The  Irish  That's  In  Me 32-34 

Blessed  Assurance 9-10 

Bosky  Dell 78-80 

Canada 43-44 

Carry  A  High  Ideal 52-53 

Cast  Up  By  The  Sea 50-51 

Christmas  1890 34-36 

Ci^y  Of  Flowers,  The 45-4? 

Compositioa,  A 7778 

Coming  Of  The  Stork,  The 3-5 

Country  Matters 16 

Delray  To  Prosper  In  Spite  Of  The  Devil  51-52 

Drafts— A  Substantive 21-22 

Evolution  Of  Nobility,  The 42 

Fledgling's  Fate,  The 23-24 

Good  Old  Times,  The 65 

How  John  Tod  Conquered  The  Shushwaps  90-95 

Heights  Beyond,  The 5-7 

Hotel  Royal  Poinciana 47-48 

Humanity— A  Toast 95-96 

Ideal  Time,  An 22-23 

In  Honor  of  Dr.  John  Gorrie 97 

In  Memoriam  Sir  Matthew  Begbie 67 

Intoleration 70-71 

Is  Your  Title  Clear? 7-8 

Jubilee  Ode 43 

Keep  Climbing 67-68 

ix 


1 


Land  Of  The  Rising  Sun,  The 40.41 

Last  Of  1890,  The ' '  ^g^jg 

Life  Is  Like  A  Game  Of  Checkers. '.'. 68-69 

Mary.  The  Scottish  Fishwife  And  Her  Dos  27 

Men  Worth  While,  The  (Song) 3 

Miami's  Great  Show *""  28  29 

Misery '"" " 

Mistakes  Of  The  Muses 29-'0 

Moore,  Byron  And  Scott ...  70 

Mother .■.'.■*.■;:.■:.■::::  $3.^ 

Munchausen's  Adventure  With  Wolves  17-18 

Munyon's  Enchanted  Isle.  ...  48  SO 

My  Friend  Jack ."."."".,*""  57.53 

Nature's  Comforters 53^54 

Ode  In  Anticipation  Of  The  Drainage  And 
Opening  Of   The  Florida  Everglades 

Country  To  Settlement 103-104 

OdeToASkuli ;;: 8,1^ 

Old  Ireland  Forever 44-45 

Only  A  Siwash  Dog oo\q 

On  Selling  A  Poem .'.■.;; .;; ;".; " "     20 

On  This  Day  The  Bicycle  Girl  Completes 

Her  Thirty-Sixth  Birthday  jg  17 

?^*^"°"'  The ;;;:::;  gg.^^ 

Passing  K.t  Weary  Willie,  The . , .  m 

Poet's  Plight,  A '.'.'.[[[["    55.57 

Poel^  Welcome  To  His  Firstborn,  The  is 

P^aye'-.A •••    8-" 

Roscoe  Club,  The .; "; '  ^~ 

Ruminations  By  The  Side  Of  A  Florida 

Shell  Mound 99.101 

Song  For  Apprentice  Accountants,  A ...  87-88 

Speech.A " 

Seasons,  The ^"^ 

Soon  To  Be  Deserted  Village,  The! I8  19 

Sunday  In  Hyde  Park VKoa 

Sailor's  Song 'f: 

"^^"-^^^^ :::::::::::;:::::  97-9^ 

X 


I?-  • 


To  My  Sweetheart  Plui 96.97 

To  My  Trunk 62-63 

To  My  Walking  Stick 61-62 

That  Flea 24-25 

Ties  Masonic 59 

To  Thee,  Oh  God " . . ."  34.35 

Vancouver JO-32 

Washington's  Birthday 73 

What  The  Bellbuoy  Says [,,  39 

When  We're  Dead  And  Gone 74.75 

World  Is  Full  Of  Poets,  The 10-14 

TENDERFEET  IN  ALASKA  (A  FOUR-ACT 

COMEDY) 167.244 


Ii  ) 


POEMS.  WISE  AND  OTHERWISE 


THE  MEN  WORTH  WHILE. 

(song.) 

There   are   knockers,   there   are   grumblers,    there   are 
tenderfeet  galore, 

Who  will  tell  us  what  we  can't  do,  and  our  littleness 
deplore ; 

There  are  fossils,  too,  grown   hoary  in  their  talk  of 
what  was  done. 

In  some  other  age  and  country  that  is  underneath  the 
sun. 

And  again  there  are  the  critics  always  free  with  cynic 
smile, 

But  the  men  who  really  do  things  are  the  men  worth 
while. 

Human  progress  needs  them  sadly,  they  are  scarce  as 
ciiicken's  teeth; 

When  we  meet  them  every  person  should  be  ready  with 
a  wreath  ; 

For  they  have  a  world  of  worries  to  contend  with  as 
they  go, 

Added  to  a  world  of  prophets  who  predict  they'll  end 
in  woe; 

And  the  risks  they  run  to  conquer,  prove  they  earn  the 
fruit  of  toil. 

And  that  men  who  really  do  things  are  the  men  worth 
while. 

THE  COMING  OF  THE  STORK. 

Life  is  full  of  tense  excitement  and  you  may,  by  taking 
thought. 
Get  enthusiastically  into  line; 

[  3  3 


You  may  catch  it  on  the  diamond  and,  whene'er  the  ball 
is  caught, 
"Root"  for  home  and  jeer  to  scorn  the  other  nine. 

You  may  catch  it  on  the  racetrack  when,  by  betting 
ten  to  one. 
You  make  everybody  think  you've  got  a  tip; 
And  again  you  still  may  catch  it  and  prolong  the  race- 
track fun, 
When  admirers  find  they've  got  it  in  the  hip. 

You  may  catch  it  when  the  battle  rages  round  you  on 
the  plain. 
And  the  enemy  are  aiming  at  your  head; 
When  behind  there's  no  retreating  o'er  the  bloody  heaps 
of  slain 
And  you're  waiting  to  be  numbered  with  the  dead. 

You  may  catch  it  in  the  mountain,  dodging  avalanche 
of  snow, 
While   you're    hunting   grizzly   bears    to    beat   the 
band ; 
You  may  catch  it  on  the  prairie  when  you're  shooting 
buffalo 
And  an  angry  bull  turns  round  and  makes  a  stand. 

You  may  catch  it  in  the  ocean  when  a  hurricane  is  on, 
And  you  never  have  been  out  before  at  sea : 

Yes,  indeed,  thr^'s  where  you'll  catch  it  and  you'll  wish 
you  hain't  gone 
As  you  entertain  the  fishes  to  your  tea. 

You  may  catch  it  in  the  river  when  the  rapids  catch 

your  breath ; 

You  may  catch  it  where  the  breakers  crash  ashore ; 

It  is  in  the  mob-ruled  city— it  is  on  the  burning  heath— 

Or    where   sweetheart's    father   points   you  to   the 

door. 

[4  ] 


But,   bedad;    as   Pat   would   say   it— If   you   want  the 
rarest  kind, 
The  kind  that  makes  you  chipper  as  a  cork : 
That  keeps  you  months  a-dancing  and  yet  keeps  you 
dancing  blind. 
It's  when  waiting  for  the  coming  of  the  stork. 


THE  HEIGHTS  BEYOND. 

Have  you  ever  faced  the  boulders  that  are  hanging  o'er 

the  steep? 
Have  you   ever    clung  to  brambles  to   enable  you  to 

creep  ? 
Have  you  ever  strained  and  struggled  as  you  made  the 

rough    ascent  ? 
H     .  you   felt  your   foothold  crumble  as  along  your 

way  you  went? 
Have  you  ever  looked  below  you  and  grown  dizzy  with 

the  sight? 
Till  you've  turned  for  very  safety  to  the  overhanging 

height  ? 
Have  you  ever,  faint  and  weary,   seen  the  brow  that 

frowns  above? 
Have   you   ever  thanked   your   heaven   that  you   soon 

would  on  it  move? 
Have  you  then  refreshed  with  promise  of  the  rest  you 

there  would  gain 
With   redoubled   efforts    clambered   up  the   last   crags 

that   remain. 
Then   all   breathless   stood   upon   them— when   behold! 

before  you  dawned. 
Not   he  summit  of  the  mountain  but  the  greater  heights 

beyond. 

So  it  is  in  Life's  long  journey,  we  find  hills  we'd  fain 
surmount 


[  5] 


And  we  start  to  climb  the  ramparts,  strewn  with  ills 

we  cannot  count. 
Blest  with  youth  and  health  and  vigor,  we  pick  out  our 

devious  way. 
Fixing  e'en  the  quiet  shelter  where  at  last  our  load  will 

lay: 
And  as  we  overcome  each  ill  between  us  and  our  goal. 
We  rise  by  slow  degrees  and  cheer  our  all  inspiring  soul, 
Along  the  rugged  path  whereon  we  pant  and  strive  and 

sweat, 
By  whispering  that  yonder  is  the  prize  we  soon  shall 

get. 
And    when,   by   seeming    Titan   power,   we    do   at   last 

succeed 
In  getting  where  we  thought,  full  sure,  would  be  suc- 
cess indeed : 
When   lo!      We   prove   we've   just   begun    to    see   the 

object  fond; 
And  if  we  still  would  win  it,  we  must  scale  the  heights 

beyond. 

There  they  stand  serene  and  lovely  and  much  clearer 

to  the  eye. 
Than  when  first  from  out  the  valley  we  looked  on  them 

in  the  sky. 
How   they  beckon  to   the  climber!     How   they  smile 

upon  the  view! 
How  their  snowcapped  peaks  are  outlined  and  enhal- 

lowed  by  the  blue. 
Round  us  still  great  chasms  are  yawning — huge  ravines 

must  yet  be  crossed. 
Nor  may  we  retreat  in  safety  for  our  footprints  have 

been  lost. 
On  all  hands  grim  troubles  threaten  and  we'll  have  to 

suffer   still, 
And  be  careful  of  the  snowslide  and  each  other  name- 
less ill. 


[  6  ] 


But  behold !    Around  the  summit  all  the  gorges  seem 
to  cease — 

There    is    there    no    sign    of    danger-there    is    there 

eternal  Peace. 
Let  us  then  climb  on  in  patience  till  we've  paid  Life's 

greatest  bond, 

And  within  Nirvana's  portal  reach  at  last  the  Heights 
Beyond. 


IS   YOUR   TITLE   CLEAR? 

Can  you  read  your  title  clearly  to  your  land  ? 
Does  the  abstract  prove  a  seizin  that  will  stand  ? 

Has  your  lawyer  made  a  search? 

Do  the  records  show  a  smirch  ? 
Are  you  satisfied  you've  got  it  at  command? 

Spite  of  claim  or  cloud  or  flaw 

Spite  of  tax  sale,  lien  or  law- 
Can  you  read  your  title  clearly  to  your  land? 

Can  you  read  your  title  clearly  to  your  wealth? 
Did  you  earn  it  by  your  merit  or  by  stealth? 

Is  your  money  bathed  in  blood  ? 

Did  you  find  it  in  the  mud? 
Did  you  get  it  at  the  price  of  helper's  health? 

Was  it  gambled  for  and  lost? 

Is  it  yours  at  honor's  cost?— 
Can  you  read  your  title  clearly  to  your  wealth? 

Can  you  read  your  title  clearly  to  your  power  ? 
Is  it  permanent  or  only  for  the  hour? 

Can  you  bank  upon  your  sway? 

Will  it  bring  you  through  the  fray? 
Will  your  victim  always  look  at  you  and  cower? 

Is  it  founded  on  a  rock? 

Is  it  partly  made  of  talk?— 
Can  vou  read  your  title  clearly  to  your  power? 

'  7  ] 


Can  you  read  your  title  clearly  to  your  name? 
Do  you  whisper  it  without  a  twinge  of  shame? 

Is  there  someone  else  should  wear 

Any  laurels  that  you  bear? 
By  exposure  could  he  rob  you  of  your  fame? 

Are  you  really  staunch  and  true? 

Can  we  class  you  with  the  few? — 
Can  you  read  your  title  clearly  to  your  name? 

Can  you  read  your  title  clearly  to  your  friend? 

Is  he  yours  through  thick  and  thin  till  life  shall  end? 

Have  you  knit  him  to  your  soul? 

Do  you  know  his  final  goal? 
Can  you  swear  that  when  you  need  him  he'll  attend? 

Has  your  love  for  him  been  pure? 

Will  it  evermore  endure? — 
Can  you  read  your  title  clearly  to  your  friend? 

Can  yf  '  read  your  title  clearly  to  your  hope? 
Have  you  figured  out  exactly  heaven's  scope? 

Have  you  got  a  noble  mind? 

Are  you  in  the  least  confined? 
On  the  path  you  choose  to  travel  do  you  grope? 

Is  the  place  you  aim  to  reach 

In  the  woods  or  on  the  beach? — 
Can  you  read  your  title  clearly  to  your  hope? 

Can  you  read  your  title  clearly  to  the  sky? 

Have  you  earned  in  spite  of  strife  a  home  on  high? 

Can  you  meet  the  pauper's  gaze? 

Do  the  helpless  sing  your  praise? 
Do  the  victims  of  misfortune  know  you're  nigh? 

Will  your  life  that  we  have  seen 

Suit  the  lowly  Nazarene? — 
Can  you  read  your  title  clearly  to  the  sky? 


[8] 


BLESSED  ASSURANCE. 

(From   a    business   man's    standpoint). 
I  am  insured.     I   fear  no  fire : 
The  flames  may  dance  to  heaven  and  higher. 
I've  paid  the  price  to  gain  relief — 
A  newer  house  will  end  my  grief. 
My  home  is  mine  by  double  right: 
Though  burned  it  rises  through  the  blight; 
E'en  by  the  ashes  I'm  secured: 
I  fear  no  fire— I  am  insured. 

I  am  insured.     I  fear  no  wind : 
Tornadoes  can  no  longer  blind. 
Great  hurricanes  may  come  and  go — 
My  roof  to  yonder  yard  may  blow- 
But  in  the  tempest  I  can  see 
My  hope  inspiring  policy. 
Though  howling  storm  is  faithless  steward: 
I  fear  no  wind — I  am  insured. 

I  am  insured.     I  fear  no  thief: 
From  burglary  I've  bought  relief. 
The  midnight  prowler  takes  his  gain — 
He  robs  me  but  he  robs  in  vain. 
E'en   though   my   valuables   depart, 
I'm  proof  against  his  sneaking  art; 
Though  by  his  wiles  my  wealth  is  lured: 
I  fear  no  thief — I  am  insured. 

I  am  insured.     I  fear  no  chance: 
I  smile  at  Fate  and  break  his  lance. 
No  accident  can  make  me  quail ; 
Nor  do  I  failing  health  bewail : 
Misfortunes  that  on  these  depend 
Are  now  forever  at  an  end : 
What  can't  be  cured  must  be  endured: 
I  fear  no  chance — I  am  insured. 

[9] 


I  am  insured.     I  fear  no  death: 
I'm  now  resigned  to  fleeting  breath. 
My  passing  conies  but  in  its  train, 
My  loved  ones  face  no  paupers'  pain: 
One  prop  is  gone  but  in  its  place, 
Another  cornes  by  saving  grace: 
Though  long  I  have  the  grav?  adjured, 
I  fear  no  death~I  am  insured. 

THE  WORLD  IS  FULL  OF  POETS. 

One  said  (and  in  the  saying  laughed  to  scorn  the  poet's 
art) 
That  the  day  of  poesy  had  long  gone  bv; 
So  I  asked  her  when  she  said  it,  if  she'd  ever  learned 
by  heart 
A  poem,  a  verse,  a  line— to  tell  me  why? 
And  she   faltered  that  her   Shakespeare  was   an  ever 
present  friend 

Whose     wise    lines    were    interwoven    with     her 
prayers ; 
That    indeed    there    were    some   later   poets,    too,    she 
might   defend : 
As  they  often  with  their  balm  relieved  her  cares. 

And  I  smiled,  nor  further  questioned  as  I  passed  along 
my   way — 
In  her  soul  she  was  a  poet  like  the  rest ; 
For  the  world  is  full  of  poets;  'tis  the  poets'  happiest 
day; 
There  is  scarce  a  mortal  born  not  one  confessed. 
Would  you  further  prove  my  dictum  ?  would  you  know 
yourself  aright? 
Would  you  test  the  inner  sight  and  search  the  core  ? 
Then  I  ask  you,  have  you  ever,  in  the  stilly  hours  of 
night, 
Heard  the  moaning  of  the  surf  along  the  shot 

[  10  ] 


Have  you  heard  it  whisper  danger?     Have  you  shud- 
dered with  affright? 

WK  "r.*  f?  f '"  ^^^  *'^'*'''  °^  '^'"dred  gone  before 

Who  had  faded  to  heed  the  warning  and  who  vanished 

in  the  night; 

In  the  night  within  the  surf  along  the  shore? 

Or  have  you  heard  its  music  in  the  sunlight  of  the  dav- 

time?  ' 

Have  you  seen  it  clap  its  hands  for  very  joy? 
Have  you  dreamed,  while  looking  at  it.  of  a  long  past 
youthful  gay  time 
Of  a  pleasure  like  the  surf  without  alloy? 

Have  you  ever  watched  the  emb.rs  of  a  fire  within  the 
grate. 

When  the  gloaming  crept  around  your  curtained 
room? 

Have  you   wondered   what  you   sa^^    there?     Was    it 
fancy?     Was  it  Fate? 

An/'l'  T  '°''  ^°""'^^  ^''^'''  *^^  gathering  gloom? 

And   at   first   you   see   a   schoolfriend-then   a    sweet- 
heart— comes   before  you 
Then  a  dearer-ever  dearer  fills  the  view; 

1.11  from  out  the  glowing  ashes  comes  an  echo  "I  adore 
You" 

And  you  rouse  yourself  to  see.  can  it  be  true? 

Have  you  ever  in  a  churchyard  walked  along  with  foot- 
steps slow 
Till  you  come  within  the  precincts  of  a  vault? 
Have  you  felt  the  eery  impulse  to  squint  sideways  as 
you  go? 

"^'^'^81°"?"'''"'''^    ^°    ^^"    ^    ''°'"    demanding 
Have  you   stopped-then   on   your  tiptoe   ventured   in 
beyond   the  portal. 

Have  you   held  your   breath  and   dared  not  turn 
your  head? 

mi 


i 

] 


Have  you  shivered   and  grown  ghastly,   then  remem- 
bered you  were  mortal 
And  retired  as  one  returning  from  the  dead? 

Have  you  looked  upon  the  cloudlets  as  they  flitted  o'er 
the  sky? 
And  beheld  them,  as  they  scampered,  change  their 
shape  ? 
Have  you  suddenly  grown  thoughtful  and   recognized 
on  high 
The  outline  of   some   well   rememoered  cape? 
Then  before  you  quite  could  place  it  it  becomes  a  lion 
bold 
And  <s  shaking  at  the  heavens  its  shaggy  mane; 
Till  again  your  fleeting  fancy  sees  the  mass  together 
n->-d. 
And  it    low  becomes  an  Indian  of  the  plain. 

See  the   feathers   o'er  his   forehead !     See  the  blanket 
round  his  frame ! 
S- .  his  hand  raised  slowly  upward  as  to  speak ! 
Ha       you   almost  heard   him  utter  words  of   menace, 
words  of  blame, 
'-    1  within  his  hand  a  tomahawk  you  seek  ? 
Have  you  then,  as  slow  it  faded,  been  reminded  of  his 
race? 
Have  you  felt  a  tug  of  pity  at  your  breast? 
Have  you  moralized  why  progress   must  bis  progeny 
efface  ? 
H  you  have,  then  in  that  moral  lies  a  test. 

Have  you  ever  been   to  dreamland   and,   while  there, 
have  had  a  call 
From  a  friend  you  had  forgotten  many  years? 


:ifM 


[  12  ] 


Have  you  ever  in  your  slumbers  sccji  the  writing  on 
the  wall — 
Till  you've  mingled  with  resolves  repentant  tears? 
Have  you  ever  seen  a  vision  of  the  glorious  heights 
above  ? 
Have  you  fancied  that  they  beckoned  you  to  climb  ? 
Have  you  listened  in  the  silence  to  the  gentle  voice  of 
love? 

Have   you    heard   o'er   worldly   din   the   heavenly 
chime? 


I 


Has  the  touch  of  baby  fingers— has  the  prattle  of  a 
child 
Ever  spurred  you  into  battle  for  the  right? 
Has  the  innocence  of  virtue  ever  curbed  your  passion 
wild, 

And   you've    given    to   injured    weakling   of    your 
might  ? 
Has  the  pansy  or  the  lily,  or  the  little  blushing  rose, 
Ever  seemed  to  you  more  human  than  a  flower? 
Has  the  greatness  of  the  mountain,  crowned  by  never 
melting  snows. 
Ever  preached  to  you  a  sermon  for  the  hour? 

Has  o.;e  query  here  put  to  you,  of  a  former  fate  re- 
called ? 
Can  you  answer  "yes"  to  one  in  point  of  fact? 
H  you  can,  my  friend,  you  need  not  ever  more  become 
appalled 
At  the  "afflatus  divine"  you  thought  you  lacked. 
For   whoever   has   in    fancy   with    Dame    Nature   held 
communion ; 
Whoever  has  in  silence  heard  a  voice; 
Is  an   Adept  and   a    Prophet  and  can   join   the   Poet's 
Union ; 
Has  a  right  among  the  Seers  to  rejoice. 


[  13  1 


It  may  chance  our  rhyme  is  faulty-it  may  chance  we're 
not  inspired 
And  the  flights  wc  have  remain  within  ourself; 
Or.  perhaps,  the  great  occasion  has  not  yet  our  bosom 
fired, 

And  we're  plodding  low  to  gather  vulgar  pelf- 
If  howe'er  some  other  rhymer  with  a  line  can  cheer 
our  way: 
Even  this  will  make  us  stand  the  poet's  test  ■ 
For  the  world  is  full  of  poets;  'tis  the  poets  happiest 
day- 
There  is  scarce  a  mortal  born  not  one  confessed. 

THE  PASSING  OF  "WEARY  WILLIE." 

Tf ChLT'h"""  """""'«'"  ""•'  -ho  fmally  left  hi.  po.ition 
oL?  Jr.  ^  T'.  ^.^'"^y""'"  '"  England.  While  in  the 
office  he  had  studied  his  way  through  Trinity  College.  The 
night  work  naturally  made  him  "tired"   in   the  day. 

Now   no  more  will   "Weary  Willie'   tell    us   how   the 
tram  was  late; 

Now  no  more  we'll  hear  of  vigils  to  explain  an  aching 
pate; 

Now  the  bottle  with  the  milk  in  never  more  will  be  in 
sight ; 

Now  no  dockets  will  be  wanted-now  at  last  the  cash 
IS  right; 

Now  McShane  looks  sad  and  lonely,  no  one  calls  him 

"face  divine;" 
Now   Biggs  waxes  dark  and  gloomy-since  he's  gone 

who  urged  him  shine; 
Now    when    'prentice    lads    discover    all    unfilled    the 

"bosses"    chair, 

No  demoniac  shrieks  of  torture  will  disturb  the  office 
air; 

Now    ne  pride  of  landed  gentry  will  no  longer  be  our 


talk; 


[  14  ] 


Ui. 


I 

I 


"^'^  tllT'"'"  °'  '•^*^"'  -"  ^'"«>  none  will 

''''^'  ^7  '''   '"  '^'^  "'  ^'"^  «   '-^  -h   eye 

While  beyond  , he  waste  of   waters  "Weary   WiilieV 
singing  hymns.  ^    'v'nies 

THE  POET'S  WELCOME  TO  HIS   FIRSTBORN. 
Welcome    little  stranger,   welcome  to  our   home- 
H  you  find  .t  meagre,  hope  for  more  to  come 
All  we  have  ,s  yours,  and  we're  yours  as  well  • 
Welcome,  little  stranger-    Lord,  how  you  caV  yell ! 

I'm  your  father,  youngster;  that's  your  mother  ther..- 
U  was  us  who  brought  you  to  this  worlTof "a  e 
We  are  glad  we  did  it,  but  it's  hard  on  you 
That  ,s  why  we  oflfer  home  and  service  too. 

I      That  is  why  we  promise  that  our  life  shall  he 

Con.se^rDted  always  to  our  fealty  • 
I      We  have  long  expected  such  as  you  to  come- 
I     Gracous.  how  you're  squirming!  sure  you  do  look  rum. 

But  I  know  you're  ours.     Here's  my  hand  on  that 
K.SS  f3,,      ^^^,.^^     (Gee.  don^t  that  sound  pat') 

K,ss  your  mother  too.  dear;  she  deserves  it  most 
For  3our  sake  already  she  was  near  a  ghost.  ' 

i     W^^lcome.  little  stranger.     Welcome  to  our  home- 

.     All  we  have  ,s  yours  and  we  wish  you   bliss 
Welcome,  httle  stranger-here's  another  kiss 


[  15  ] 


I 


I 


COUNTRY   MATTERS. 

In  memory  of  the  celebration  of  Dominion  Day,  at  Chicago 
during  the  World's  Fair,  1893,  and  of  the  speeches  of  Carter 
Harrison,  the  Mayor,  and  J.  6.  Locke,  a  Canadian  Commissioner. 

Says  Uncle  Sam  to  Canada 
"My  Dear,  I  like  ycur  style; 
"If  you'll  be  true 
"I'll   marry  you — 

"Sure  that  is  worth  your  while." 

Says  Canada  to  Uncle  Sam 
"You  flatter  me,  dear  mister; 
"For  your  great  nerve 
"You  much  deserve — 

"So  I  will  be  your  sister." 

"But   surely,   Miss,   says  Uncle  Sam, 
"You  cannot  blame  my  notion; 
"Since  parallel 
"Our  countries   dwell 

"From  ocean  unto  ocean?" 

"Indeed,  that's  true,"  says  Canada, 
"Your  notion  seems  complete; 
"So  to  be  fair, 
"We  two  may  pair — 

"When  parallels  shall  meet." 


ON  THIS  DAY  THE  BICYCLE  GIRL  COMPLETES 
HER   THTRTY-SIXTH  BIRTHDAY. 

(With   apologies   to   Byron). 

Like  one   forlorn  she   rides  along; 

No  dudish  glances  near  her  stray; 
Her  bloomers  now  attract  no  throng— 

She'.s    had   her    day. 

[  16  1 


'ii: 


Caai 


1  he  chic  of  her  new  woman  ways, 
Though  once  a  never  failin-  c 
A  victim  to  the  cycling  craze, 

Has  com,-  tc  harjii. 

Of  old  she  set  the  town  agape 

As  through  its  streets  she  whirled  so  fast  • 
Of  late,  with  limbs  bent  out  of  shape. 

She  wobbles  past. 

Her  days  are  in  the  yellow  leaf; 

The  jaunty  airs  of  youth  are  flown- 
A  face  that  looks  like  sculptured  beef 

Is  hers  alone. 

MUNCHAUSEN'S  ADVENTURE  WITH  WOLVES 
I  was  galloping,  galloping  over  the  border 

Twixt  Prussia  and  Russia  in  days  that  are  oast- 
Over  snowdrift  and  prairie  with   October     rdor  '      ' 
My  good  grey  mare  Peggy  was  galloping  fal't; 

When   suddenly   out   of  a   thicket   there   darted 

And  .  n     -"^"'''  ^°'''  '^''  '  ''■''  I^-ve  seen; 
And  galloping,  galloping  after  me  started 

With  blood  in  his  eye  and  a  murderous  mien. 

The    race    seemed 
daunted. 
Poor  Peggy  I  pestered  with  torturing  whip  • 

Bu^  f    'f  •'•"'  ^'-"'^P"'  ^"^  I-nted  and  panted- 
But  plain   from  the   first  she  was   losing  her  grt.: 

The  breath  of  the  wolf  I  soon   felt  on  my  shoulder 

I  dot  V'T\'""  ^"'^'^'^  P^^P-'"^  to  spring. 
I  dodged  and  thus  happilv  li,-  '  ■ 


quite    hopeless,    but    yet.    nothing 


For 


o  er  me  he  flew  like 


ived  tn  grow  older,— 


a  vulture  on  wing. 


f  17] 


w 


On  galloping  Peggy's  hind-quarters  he  landed, 

And  straightway  began  to  make  good  his  repast; 

While  I  kept  on  whipping,  though  now  weary  handed, 
Determined  to  keep  up  our  speed  to  the  last. 

And  so  while  my  whip  on  poor  Peggy  was  falling. 
The  wolf  was  devouring  her  out  of  her  skin; 

For   as    each    huge    mouthful — the    tale    is   appalling — 
Was  torn  from  her  carcase  the  monster  went  in. 

Till,  would  you  believe  it,  (for  once  I  was  lucky), 
That    wolf    in    the    harness    soon    found    himself 
caught. 

And  as  I  had  heard  that,  far  other  than  plucky. 

The  grit  of  a  wolf  could  be  counted  as  naught: 

I  doubled  my  blows  and  by  cleverest  reining, 
I  kept  up  the  gallop  that  never  had  ceased : 

And  just  as  the  shadows  of  even      ere  waning, 

A  light  in  the   distance   my  courage  increased. 

So  steadily  onward — no  horse  ever  matched  him — 
That  wolf  made  a  record  unheard  of  before; 

Till  once  in  the  village  the  natives  despatched  him. 
And  safe  out  of  danger  my  gallop  was  o'er. 

THE   SOOX-TO-BE   DESERTED  VILLAGE. 

Alaska,  as  everybody  knows,  is  a  very  large  territory.  In  the 
absence  of  a  civilized  population,  which  was  largely  the  case  when 
this  poem  was  written,  this  vastness  of  area  has  some  dis- 
advantageous sides  to  it.  In  no  way,  however,  is  it  so  annoying 
as  at  the  semi-annual  sittings  of  the  district  court,  when,  in 
order  to  get  a  grand  jury  together,  subpoenas  have  to  be  sent 
out  over  a  distance  of  several  hundred  miles.  The  court  is 
usually  held  at  Sitka,  the  capital,  although  by  far  the 
greater  number  of  jurors  have  to  be  summoned  from  Juneau, 
the  largest  town — unfortunately,  some  200  miles  away.  The 
Juneauites  do  not  like  this  three-week  compulsory  vacation.  In 
fact,    old    records,    doctors'    certificates,    etc.,    etc.,    are    never    in 

[  18  ] 


1^ 


oa    s    ^a    IS    I.ke   a    -ndemonium    while    the    "boys"    are    therr 

n    the   country   recue   the    poem   almost    from    beginn^nr-o  Tnd 
tlemen.   that   tells  you  all   you   want   to   know  about   Sitka." 

Sweet  Sitka,  loveliest  village  of  the  wild 
Undimmed    attraction    to    the    wandering  '  child  • 
Uhere  Fall  and  Winter  'merged  in  one  do  stay 
lill  tardy  Spring  their  torrents  drives  away 
And   where,   when   Summer  comes,   thy   lonely  charrr, 
to  kiss, 

No  other  clime  can  boast  such  short-lived  reign  of  bliss, 
How  often  have  I  climbed  thy  castle's  height  serene  ;- 
And  gazed  abroad  amazed,  upon  th.  ^- ..ried  scene 
Close  bounded  by  the  tombs  upon  .-     .       Vring  steep 
VVhere  rude  forefathers  of  the  sav.    ,        ,vash  sleep' 
rtow   oft   ,n  pensive   mood   through   native   ranch   I've 

strolled. 
Or  by  the  barracks  grim  and  Russian  buildings  old  • 
Bes.de  the  great  Greek  church,   the  tumble-down  fi;e 

hall  ; 

The  aged,  worn-out  mill,  and  Mission  build,  igs  all  • 
Or  paced  that  only  road,  to  lovers  doubly  dear,      ' 
That  leads  to  nature's  haunts  and  Indian  river  near. 
But  S.tka,  hke  sweet  Auburn,  of  whose  fate  we  all  have 
read, 

Is  dying,  slowly  dying-after  court  she  will  be  dead. 


[  19  ] 


ON  SELLING  A   POEM 

A   poet   addresses    his   sister    in    the   following    manner: 

My  dear  forerunner  from  the  self  same  womb; 
Who  came  to  warn  the  world  I  too  might  come; 

Attend  my  lay! 
Or,  if  too  prudish,  better  go  thy  way; 
For  I  feel  funny  now— I'm  prone  to  shout— 
What's  in  me,  like  black  murder,  sure  will  out. 

And  yet  for  all  my  glee,  I  wish  you'ld  stay ; 
Since  I  have  something  simply  grand  to  say— 

A  sweet  bon  mot; 
Indulge  my  fever,  ere  away  you  go, 
And  for  a  time  I'll  hold  unruly  tongue 
In  check,  that  you  may  catch  its  song. 

For  'tis  a  song  of  promise  and  of  hope; 
I  have  Miss  Fame  so  tethered  with  a  rope 

She  cannot  budge; 
And  if  on  me  her  smiles  she  seems  to  grudge; 
Great  Caesar's  ghost !  the  flirt's  within  my  power. 
And  she  will  rue  it  if  she  looks  too  sour. 

You— who  long  since  have  seen  me  "mewl  and  puke—" 
As  Shakespeare  says— (so  vain  is  shocked  rebuke), 

And  rocked  my  cot, 
And  wished  me,  when  I  howled,  in  warmer  spot— 
I   have   no   doubt— you   now  can   sympathize 
With  the  wild  shriek  I  send  to  higher  skies. 

You,  whom  I  teased,  boylike,  to  make  you  mad; 
Then  fought  and  scratched  and  tore  your  clothes  egad, 

And  then  sneaked  off; 
Till  you  grew  wise  and  laughed  at  painless  chaff; 
And  learned  that  wit  assailed  by  vulgar  force 
Gains  with  the  contact  power  to  clear  its  course. 

r  20  ] 


-1 


rv?',w'*"r'"''  r'"'  *^°'"  *'""°"«h  "°«'ded  years 
I  ve  swapped  my  shames  my  pleasures  and  my  tears- 

Matched  woe  with  woe— 

Now  listen  to  my  latest  thrill  before  you  go- 

Ive  sold  a  poem.    Rah!  there  goes  my  hat! 

Three  cheers  for  Ireland  and  a  kiss  for  Pat! 

DRAFTS-A    SUBSTANTIVE. 

That  would  seem  to   have  more  than  one  meaning 

A  Burdened  Beast  neighed  his  despair. 

Then  kicked  across  the  shafts; 
But  all  in  vain  hij  efforts  were 

To  get  aloof  from  "draughts." 

A  Boy  remarked  with  candor   free 
That  "draughts"  were  "dull  as  lead  " 

'Because,"  said  he,  "I  cannot  see 
"More  than  one   move  ahead." 

A  Draughtsman,  asked  to  make  a  draught. 

Did   all  he  could  to  shirk; 
"Because"  said  he,  "'twould  drive  one  daft 

Uraughts  are  so  much  like  work." 

A   Typist  raised  hci   voice  to  show 

That  law  work  was  not  clover- 
But  "drafts"  she  called  her  chiefe'st  woe 

For  they  must  be  done  over. 

A   Tourist,  sobered  down  with  years, 

The  use  of  "drafts"  decried; 
Since  one,  to  calm  each  payer's  fears, 

Must  be  identified. 


[  21  ] 


! 


A  Lubber  showed  his  sailing  skill 

By  preference  for  rafts 
And  gave  for  reason   "they'ld  not  fill; 

Because  rafts  have  no  draughts." 

A  Captain  bold  objected  much 

To  "drafts"  upon  his  men; 
But  Generals  are  like  the  Dutch 

They  do  the  same  again 

A  Sage  stroked  down  his  hoary  beard 
When  men  on  "drafts"  discussed 

And  shivered  out  in  accents  weird: 
"Drafts"  prove  we  are  but  dust. 

While  thus  at  drafts  fly  venomed  shafts 

From  youth  as  well  as  age; 
Tis  well  to  think,  that,  when  we  drink. 

Good  "draughts"  our  thirsts  assuage. 

AN  IDEAL  TIME. 

In  memory  of  a  private  picnic  which  was  arranged  for,  but—! 

Across  the  stream,  amid  the  trees 

And  fragrant  fields  of  grass. 
Each  lad  of  our  acquaintance  good 

Asked  o'er  some  charming  lass. 

A  fire  of  brushwood  soon  was  built, 

O'er  which  a  pot  was  hung; 
Filled  from  a  spring  of  Adam's  ale 

We  found  the  hills  among. 

The  contents   soon  began   to  boil, 

And  then  we  had  some  tea; 
And  those  who  don't  believe  we  ate 

Should  have  been  there  to  see. 

[  22  ] 


We  cleaned  the  baskets  one  by  one, 

Of  their  delicious  load, 
Of  fish  and  meat  and  cakes  and  pie 

And  berries  d  la  mode. 

But  luncheon  o'er   we  quick  began 
To  skip  and  play  quite  curious, 

In  fact,  to  quote  from  Bobby  Burns, 
The  fun  grew  "fast  and  furious."   ' 

A  lovely  time  indeed  was  spent 
With  hammocks,  swings  and  such; 

While  tennis,  quoits  and  croquet,  too. 
Took   up   attention   much. 

'Twas  midnight  past  before  we  thought 

Of  ending  up  the  day. 
And  then  with  ev'ry  basket  light 

We  homeward  bent  our  way. 

The  only  drawback  to  our  sport. 

Amid  those  fields  of  grass, 
Was  this,— a  trifling  one,  'tis'  true— 

//  never  came  to  pass. 

THE  FLEDGLING'S   FATE. 

In  a  nest  lined  with  leaves, 

'Neath  the   sheltering   eaves', 

A  fledgling  once  railed  at  its  fate  • 

Saying:   Why  should    I  sigh, 

While  other  birds  fly; 

Yet  lazily  sit  here  and  wait. 


m  ] 


I  too  have  got  wings, 

And   can  use  them  it  sings; 

Nor  will  I  mope  longer  alone; 

Let  me  once  leave  this  nest, 

And  I'll  soar  with  the  best 

E'en  though  I  be  only  half  grown. 

But  it  found  to  its  cost, 

How  in  vain  was  such  boast; 

As  it  pressed  from  its  eave-covered  shed ; 

For  it  dropped  with  a  groan 

On  a  pavement  of  stone, 

Where  it  fluttered  and  gasped  and  was  dead. 

Let  us  learn  by  the  fall. 

Of   this    fledgling   so    small. 

That,  to  soar,  we  must  first  know  the  way. 

If  success  we  would  share; 

For  attainment  prepare; 

Nor  expect  to  be  great  in  a  day. 


THAT  FLEA. 

Ah !  there  I've  caught  you  in  the  very  act ; 
Fiend,  who  the  quiet  of  my  leisure  wracked; 
Now  never  more  your  movements  will  distract; 

I  have  you  firm. 
Safe  'twixt  my  fingers,  all  in  vain  your  tact ; 

There    must    you    squirm. 

Black  breasted  villain,  would  that  with  like  ease, 
I  might  now  crush  with  one  unsparing  squeeze, 
From  all  your  kind  the  life  that  can  so  tease  ' 

Poor  tortured  man; 
And  once  for  aye  annihilate  all  fleas 

From  out  the  land. 

[24] 


ill 


ii 


id. 


m. 


Then  might  I  gain  a  sweet  and  full  revenge, 
And  for  your  bites  one  fatal  pinch  exchange;— 
G'ad.y  your  corpses  in  a  row  I'd  range 

That  all  might   see, 
How  I  had  rid  mankind  of  more  than  mange— 

The   genus  flea. 

But  why  so  quiet?  Are  you  stilled  at  last? 
Why  yield  so  quickly  to  the  fateful  blast? 
Hush !    Till  I  gaze  and  gloat  upon  the  ghost 

Of  one  laid   low; 
And  happy,  view  how  life  and  death  contrast 

In    conquered    foe. 

But  hold !     My  all  too  ready  boast  is  vain. 

Not  even  one  of  hated  hosts  is  slain. 

E'en  while  I  talked  my  slippery  coated  bane 

Elusive  fled: 
And  down  my  back  I  feel  his  fangs  again— 

Would  I  were  dead. 

SUNDAY  IN  HYDE  PARK. 

One   of  the   fashionable   breathing   spaces   for   London.    England. 
Morning. 

Along  the  Row  to  Marble  Arch 
Wealth's  famed  procession  passes  by; 
Sweet  ladyships  with  glancing  eye, 
And  lordships  stiff  in  shining  starch: 
A  gaitered  foot,  a   stove  pipe  head. 
An  upturned  nose,  with  wine  grown  red, 
A  purple  robe,  a  stately  strut. 
Ringed  ears  to  all  but  flatt'ry  shut: 
List  to  the  nothings  that  they  say. 
As  each  proud  group  goes  on  its  way. 
They're   happy  in  their   little  game, 


[  25  ] 


And  I   will  be  the  last  to  squeal; 

For  I  confess  it  to  my  shame 
I  know  exactly  how  they  feel. 

Afternoon. 

Wild  speakers  on  imported  stumps; 
Surrounded  i)y  excited  mobs, 
Tell  how  the  rich  the  poor  man  robs, 
And  w.th  one  hand  the  other  thumps. 
The  tortured  air  is  full  of  saws 
About  the  curse  of  wealth-made  laws; 
1  III  on  the  outskirts  of  a  crowd 
Some  doubting  Thomas  swears  aloud 
Then  walks  away  in  arch  disgust 
While  after  him  flics  parting  thrust. 

Perhaps  reforms  are  born  that  way  • 
I  cannot  blame  e'en  useless  zeal ; 

I've  tried  reforming  in  my  d'aj 
And  know  h    v  happy  zealots  feel. 


Evening. 


The  moonlight  streams  near  shady  seat 
Secluded  from  the  worldly  breeze  ■ 
Where  lips  with  vows  fond  hearts  would  ease 
Vet  hearts  uneased  with  loudness  beat. 
To  rest  and  count  the  stars  I'm  fain ; 
But  for  a  nook  I  search  in  vain; 
'Tis  lovers'  hour  within  the  Park, 
And  each  still  nook  and  cranny  dark 
Is  lighted  bv  love's  spluttering  wick— 
Whose  splutter  sounds  like  pistol  click. 

I  must  begone— I  dare  not  stay- 
Tight,  straining  arms  my  doom  will  seal  • 
^  Poor  things  it  is  their  happiest  day  •  ' 
I've  felt  the  raptures  lovers  feel. 


[26] 


MARY,  THE  SCOTTISH   FISHWIFE.  AND  HER 

DOG. 

Mary  had  a  little  dog, 
With  teeth  just  like  a  shark; 

And  ev'rything  that  Mary  said, 
Would  make  that  doggie  bark. 

It  followed  her  to  town  each  day, 
Though  not  against  her  wish, 

For  it  appears  her  aim  in  life 
Was  selling   'caller"  fish. 

And  when  she  sang  her  humble  cry 

Upon  the  stone-paved  stref^t, 
The  dog  to  help  was  never  shy. 

But  loud  her  voice  did  greet. 

And  as  she  marches  on  her  way, 

The  dog  ne'er  far  behind, 
With  shaking  tail  and  panting  breath. 

Much  custom  helps  to  find. 

For     '       the  people  hear  that  bark, 
ihv,    ..iiow  that  May  is  nigh; 

And  haste  to  get  their  dishes  out. 
That  they  some  fish  may  buy. 

But  should  some  evil  disposed  one 

His  mistress  try  to  rob, 
That  dog  is  there  with  sharkish  teeth. 

To  make  the  culprit  sob. 

And  as  this  world  goes  on  apace, 
And  grows  and  fades  the  heather. 

These  simple  two  are  never  seen 
Except  they  are  together. 

[27  ] 


'<■ 


jii' 


And  as  they  travelled  on  through  life, 
Their  friends  found  out  at  length 

Their  well  proved  motto  had  been  this  :— 
In    unily   is  strength. 

MIAMI'S  GREAT   SHOW. 

They  may  talk  of  the  World's  Fair  at  Paris 

And  the  sights  that  were  there  to  be  seen  ; 
They  may  think  that  Chicago  could  harass 

And  make  smaller  ventures  look  mean  • 
But  we  know  that  they  all  are  mistaken; 

Such  exhibits  will  scarcely  compare- 
( If  the  same  things  from  each  should  be  taken-) 

With  Dade  county's  wonderful  Fair. 

What  with  orange  and  grapefruit  and  lemon, 

With  tangerine,  pawpaw  and  lime; 
With  pineapple,  pepper,  persimmon 

And  mango  (to  keep  up  the  rhyme) 
With  compte,  kohl-rabi,  cassava, 

Figs,  dates,  pomegranates  in  store, 
Sapodilla  delicious  and  guava, 

And  mellow  bananas  galore; 

With  pears  avocado,  tomatoes. 

And  turnips  and  lettuces  sweet; 
With  plantains,  peas,  beans  and  potatoes 

With  cocoanut,  olive  and  beet; 
With    cauliflower,   carrot   and   onion 

And  cucumbers  juicy  and   cool; 
With  corn— yes,  but  not  any  bunion— 

(Which  is  named  to  keep  metre  in  rule.) 

What  with  parsnips  and  parsley  and  Dutch-like 

Oreen  cabbage  and  celery  head; 
Asparagus,  spinach  and  such  like 

[  28] 


*ii 


And  strawberries,  luscious  and  red; 
What  with  sugar  cane,  melon  and  kumquat ; 

With  pumpkins  of  every  grade; 
With  egg-plants  and  okra  and  what  not : 

All  grown  in  the  gardens  of   Dade. 

All  ripened  by  tropical   sunshine. 

And  seasoned  with   Everglade  dew; 
Such  trophies  from  hammock  and  high  pine 

On  no  other  soil  ever  grew ; 
Let  them  talk  of  Chicago  and  Paris 

Let  then    even  take  Eden  in  tow- 
But  nothing  they  say  can  embarrass 

Or  belittle  Miami's  Great  Show. 

MISTAKES  OF  THE  MUSES. 

"Apropos  the  letter  of  Geo.  W.  Wilson  of  the  T.   U    &  C    in 

!„H*"f'1^'""'  °^  ''"  "•'"''*''"  ^^''^  ^'  reproduce-  hereunder, 
and  of  the  various  editorials  throughout  the  State  of  Florida 
w.th  regard  to  the  Dade  County  Fair  and  its  influence  in  redeem- 
ing the  reputation  of  the  editor  of  the  Homeseeker.  a  sweet  singer 
of  Uade  County  rises  to  the  occasion  in  the  following  flights:" 

In  Memoriam  E.  V.  B. 
(Before  the  Fair.) 
Here  "lies"  Brother  Blackman,  who  in  death  as  in  life 
Stdl  holds  to  the  habit  that  caused  him  such  strife; 
If  the  soil  where  he's  planted  is  rich,  as  he  said. 
Then  look  out  for  more  lies-he'll  not  long  be  dead. 

(After  the  Fair.) 
Requiescat  in  Pace. 
Since  the  words  above  written  were  cut  in  cold  stone 
The  Miami  Fair  makes  all  Florida  moan. 
Salt  tears  to  scared  eyes  now  for  Riackman  are  welling  - 
For  sure  he'll  be  back  here— 'twas  truth  he  was  telling. 


[  29  1 


•OFFICE    OF    FLORIDA    TIMES-UNION    AND    CITIZEN 
Ed,to.  Mmm.   Nhws-  J^'='<*°"-''e.   Fla..   April  8.    1901.    " 

But   n  J  r  "   ^"'^    ^'''""    *"•»'""'•    ^'^   slashed    liberaTly 

SaUl         k"""   '°   '""''"   "    ^"5'   ^^«"k,    open   apology   to    Dr" 
the    DTde'  r T  p°'  *'k   '"^""'"   ""^   "*">   ■■"   the'Ja^!  and 

exhSn'  'l         ?^  :'*'""*    "^    •'"''*'^^«^    °f   'his    wonderfu! 
-but  n^r""''  7,r  -*"-«^>-s.  celery,  and  many  S'thi^S 

Geo.    W.    Wilson. 
VANCOUVER. 

What,  with  its  promise  as  the  terminus  of  the  greatest  railway 

wo  S   "Extl^or"  to",  "''*  '""T  ""  ""'*=  "  P-"^"  "the 
txcelsior     to  lure  a  youth   to   his  doom. 

The  summer's  sun  was  waning  low 

Behind  a  western  hillock's  brow; 

As,  by  a  h'ttle  pamphlet  caught,  ' 

An  Eastern  youth  first  grasped  the  thought,- 

"Vancouver." 
As  if  by  instinct  forth  he  drew 
His  purse,  and  searched  it  through  and  through: 
And  as  enou£r^  he  there  espied 
To  pay  his  way,  he  loudly  cried,— 

"Vancouver." 
[  30  ] 


"What!  What  is  that?"  the  old  man  said. 
You  are  not  fit  to  earn  your  bread." 
He  turned,  and  fire  flashed  from  his  eye, 
As  half  suppressed  all  heard  this  cry,— 

"Vancouver." 

His  many  friends  gave  kind  advice, 
And  from  his  purpose  to  entice 
Tried  ev'ry  means  they  could  conceive; 
But  with  this  word  he  took  his  leave.—' 

"Vancouver." 

"Oh,  do  not  go!"  the  maiden  sighed, 
With  look  that  would  a  god  have  tried ; 
But  true  unto  his  purpose  still, 
He  answered  back,  in  accents  shrill,— 

"Vancouver." 

Great  cities  smiled  to  take  him  in 
As  on  his  way  he  heard  their  din ; 
But  on  their  flatt'ring  smiles  he   frowned. 
And  in  this  shriek  their  din  was  drowned,— 

"Vancouver." 

Across   the  prairie,  wild  and   wide, 
His  onward  course  he  daily  hied ; 
Though  shot  on  shot  he  saw  at  game. 
His  course  and  song  was  still  the  same,— 

"Vancouver." 

The  Rocky  mountains  soon  at  hand. 
He  scaled  their  heights  not  yet  unmanned; 
And  clambered  over  cliff  and  ford. 
Repeating  oft  the  self- same  word— 

"Vancouver." 


r  31   ] 


Through  gorge  and  canyon  lies  his  way, 
His  purse— not  spirit— fails  each  day; 
For  nothing  daunted,  on  he  hies. 
And  echoes  answer  from  the  skies,— 

"Vancouver." 

At  last,  quite  "broke,"  he  sights  the  town; 
The  natives  greet  him  with  a  frown: 
Too  great  the  shock,  he  forward  falls, 
But  dying,  still  that  cry  recalls,— 

"Vancouver." 

And  now  he  lies  unwept,  unsung. 
The  scarred  and  straggling  stumps  among; 
While  not  far  from  the  unhonored  dead 
Goes  on  with  brisk  and  busy  tread,— 

"Vancouver." 


(      ,iit 


BECAUSE  OF   THE  IRISH   -^r.  \T'S  IN  ME. 

This  song  was  written  as  a  contribution  to  an  amateur  news- 
paper called  the  Longfellow  Literary  Review,  read  at  a  meeting 
of  a  society  of  the  same  name  held  at  Juneau,  Alaska,  on  the 
17th  of  March,   1891. 

It  was  composed  just  before  Parnell's  death,  and  while  he  was 
laboring  under  a  cloud  occasioned  by  his  expose  in  the  O'Shea 
divorce   suit. 

"The  Irish  that's  in  me"  is  that  which  I  obtained  from  my 
mother,  both  of  wuose  parents,  I  am  proud  to  say.  were  originally 
from   the  land   of  Erin  and   Shamrocks. 

What  makes  me  feel  angry  when  Ireland's  traduced? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
Why  drink  I  so  deep  to  an   Irishman's  toast? 

It's  because   of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
What  makes  my  blood  boil,  when  I  think  of  the  laws 
(Of  hard  times  in  Ireland  the  positive  cause) 
Encroaching  on   freedom,  then  asking  applause? 

It's  because  of  the  Iri'ih  that's  in  me. 


[  32 


What  makes  me  resent  being  wound  lil:e  a  spool  ? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
Why  am  I  so  ready  to  fight  for  Home  Rule? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
Why  do  I  like  Gladstone,  can  anyone  tell? 
Why  do  I  make  bold  to  stand  up   for  Parnell? 
What  makes  me  remember  that  angels  once  fell? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 

Oh,  why  am  I  soothed  when  "Killarney"  is  sung? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
And  why  does  Moore's  "Tara"  to  memory  cling? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
Why  have  I  a  right  to  aspire  to  the  fame 
Of  a  Goldsmith's,  a  Steele's,  a  Sheridan's  name? 
For  leanings  to  Gulliver,  what  is  to  blame? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 

Why  is  it  I  relish  an  Irishman's  wit? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
What  sets  me  uproarious  when  Pat  makes  a  hit? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
When  an  Irish  girl,  roguish,  and  buxom,  and  coy. 
Smiles  sweetly  and  calls  me  the  broth  of  a  boy; 
Why  is  it  I  almost  flow  over  with  joy? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 

Why  is  it  I  always  am  making  mistakes? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
Why  is  it  I'm  prone  to  say  "jabbers  and  faix"? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
When  seventeenth  of  Ireland  'round  on  us  has  worn, 
Explain  why  with  Shamrocks  my  coat  I  adorn, 
Singing  gaily  "St.  Patrick's  Day  in  the  Morn"? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 


[33  ] 


Why  is  it  I'm  careless  in  fixing  my  duds? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
Why  am  I  enamor'd  of  murphies  and  spuds? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
When  the  "cratur's"  around,  what  makes  me  so  shy? 
And  why  do  I  watch  it  w-th  wistfullest  eye? 
Then  find  in  surprise  I'm  infernally  dry? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 

Why  am  I  a  post  at  which  everyone  kicks? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
Why  is  my  poor  head  a  fam'd  target  for  bricks? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
Why  do  I  forgive  and  forget  ev'ry  frown? 
An.-  sing  to  amuse  and  make  friends  like  a  clown? 
Wlcn  ev'ryone's  wishing  for  me  to  sit  down? 

it's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 


(As  an  encore) 

What  makes  you  all  wild  now  to  hear  an  encore? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
Why  on  my  weak  efl^orts  such  plaudits  you  pour? 

It's  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 
But,  friends,  I've  too  often  the  Blarney  stone  kissed- 
Protection  I'll  find  behind  Sullivan's  fist; 
Defending  my  honor,  your  necks  he  will  twist; 

All  because  of  the  Irish  that's  in  me. 

CHRISTMAS,   1890. 

At  the  time  these  lines  were  written  'here  were  few  railroads 

nectf  r?H  'ir  "  "i'"'^'  ^""^  '"  -'"^"  even  stealboa  con 
WmZ.r  /  ""*'?'^'  ^"'■'•^  ^"  ^'''''-  The  arrival  of  the 
bi-monthly  steamer  with  mail  and  provisions  from  "below"  (a, 
.nywhere  south  of  that  country  is  called)   was  consequently  an 

fact    ,       "f  !r"  T"""*-     ""'  J""^''"'   Sitka,   Wrangel,  or,  !n 
fact,  any  of  the  settlements  at  which  it  called,  the  approach  of 
the  steamer  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night  was  the  signal  fo 
a   hurry   and   bu.tle  that   would   do  credit   to   a   town   tertimes 

[34] 


il 


their    combined    size.      Even    the    usually    stoical    natives    were 
noticed    'to  get  a  move  on."     The  small  boys,  and  many  of  the 
bigger   ones,   too,    for   that   matter,   set   up  a   series   of   catcalls 
halloos   and    yells    of   "steamboat,"    which,    added    to    the    deep 
resounding  whistle  of  th.  vessel  as  it  gave  warning  of  its  arrival 
made  it  utterly  impossible  for  anyone  to  live  within  a  mile  of 
the  settlement   and   not   know   that   the   mail    boat   had   arrived 
Juneau   was  composed   entirely   of   "wanderers   from   home."   so 
that    some    of    the    feelings    portrayed    in    "Xmas.    1890"    were 
pretty   common   property  among  the   prodigals  in   that   far-away 
part  ot  our  continent,  many  of  whom,  like  the  author,  were  just 
out  of  their  "teens."  •• 

Tidings  from  home!  Glad  tidings  from  home! 
Christmas  morning,  ar.'f  tidings   from  home! 
Ring  out,  ye  wild  bells,  till  your  tongues  you  destroy; 
You  cannot  interpret  a  tithe  of  my  joy. 

To-day  when  I  wakened  from  sleep  to  my  fate, 
My  heart  was  weighed  down  with  my  lonely  estate; 
In  sadness  I  nurtured  each  grief  and  each  care;— 
The  thought  that  'twas  Christmas  increased  my  despair : 
So    when    out    pierced    the    cry    of    "Steamboat!    the 

steamboat !" 
A  slight  choking  sensation  welled  up  in  my  throat; 
But  on  pond'ring  a  moment,  thinks  I.  with  a  groan;' 
There'll  be  nothing  for  me,  I'm  forgotten  and  lone ; 
Yet  still  a  faint  hope  goaded  onward  my  feet 
To  the  post-office  building— all  Juneau's  retreat. 
But  there  in  a  corner,  shame-faced  I   stood. 
Till  the  crowd  had  dispersed  with  their  tidings  of  good ; 
For  I  feared  to  be  told  with  the  people  around. 
That  for  "Currie,  G.  G."  not  a  note  could  be  found. 
When  the  office  was  clear,  to  the  wicket  I  went, 
And  with  nonchalant  air  gave  anxiety  vent; 
And  then  with  a  quick  beating  heart  in  my  breast, 
Waited  doubtfully  hopeful  to  see  was  I  blest: 
Imagine  my  wonder,  excuse  my  surprise. 
As  incredulous  gazing  I  saw   'fore  my  eyes. 
Not  one.  but  six  letters  in  handwriting  dear, 
Addressed  to  myself  quite  convincingly  clear; 

[  35  ] 


1 


I  grabbed  them  elate.— broke  open  each  seal; 
And  devoured  their  contents  with  a  feverish  zeal; 
And  my  rapture  grew  greater  as  I  in  my  glee 
Read  the  heaps  of  kind  wishes  there  written  for  me  • 
i<or  among  the  loved  names  that  appeared  at  the  end's. 
Were  those  of  my  father,  my  sister,  and  friends. 

Tidings  from  home!    Glad  tidings  from  home' 
Christmas  morning,  with  tidings   from  home' 
Ring  out.  ye  wild  bells,  till  your  tongues  you  destroy 
You  cannot  interpret  a  tithe  of  my  joy. 

THE  LAST  OF  1890. 

I  sat  by  the  fireside,  sobbing,  sighing. 
To  think  that  the  year  was  slowly  dying. 
When  to  stop  its  course  was  useless  trying. 

All  power  was  vain. 

^Id  '90  had  lived   its  alloted  space, 
It  had  run  Life's  short  and  fitful  race, 
And  would  soon  join  in  en  route  to  grace 

The  gospel  train. 

And  as  I  sat,— saw  the  embers  glowing. 
Thinks  I,  while  the  wind   outside  was  blowing. 
Had  '90  for  me  a  healthy  showing, 

Or  otherwise? 

And  I  pondered  it  o'er  with  weighty  thought. 
Recalled  each  trifling  bliss  it  brought. 
But  alas !  found  no  great  good  it  wrought. 

That  I  might  prize. 

The  whole  year,  almost  from  beginning. 
Despite  resolves,  had  found  me   sinning; 
And  this  kept  in  my  mem'ry  dinning, 

As  there  I  mused, 
r  36  ] 


Why  should  I  then  its  death  regret? 
Ah!  there's  the  rub,  that  makes  me  fret: 
I'd  fain  the  reason  quite  forget, 

Till  more  enthused. 

You  see— or  rather—  now   I'm  vexed; 
Such  prying  questions  make  me  mixed; 
You  should  not,  Thought,  get  persons  fixed 

In  such  a  box. 

I  liked  old  '90,  spite  of  trouble. 
E'en  though  my  sins  increased  to  double, 
Though  life  seemed  scarcely  worth  a  bubble, 

To  most  of  folks. 

So  now,  old  pard,  God  speed  you  well, 
And  keep  you  free  of  far  famed  h— 1 ; 
Some  wished  you  there  this  long,  long  spell,— 

The  rascal  crew. 

And  since  young  '91  you're  here, 
I'll  stand  the  treats:  cigars  or  beer? 
You're  hardly  old  enough,  I   fear. 

For  stronger  stew. 

But  hold!    The  temp'rance  men  might  shout, 
And  call  me  villain  out  and  out; 
For  tempting  you  their  worth  to  doubt; 

Alack   the   day! 

"So  gie's  your  hand,  we'll  aye  be  friends" 
(As  Sandy  says)  to  make  amends ; 
And  that  your  stay  no  ill  forfends, 

We'll  trust  and  pray. 


r  il  1 


In  Juneau,  that's  where  I'm  residing. 
The  boys  need  someone  by  for  chiding; 
I  hope  you'll  do  some  trusty  guiding. 

And  guard  them  true. 

And  when,  my  friend,  your  hours  are  ending. 
When  l.fe  with  death  is  slowly  blending 
I  think— I  kno      without  contending, 

I'll  sigh  for  you. 

ONLY  A  SIVVASH  DOG. 

Siwash)    dog.      We   were^rnLhi  half-starved    Eskimo    (or 

village  or  LtZir:  Z  Zl  Td  oT  th^'  T"'"  '^°'"  '"' 
visitor  seemed  fully  aware  It  hlTI'  Tt  [  *"'  '"^^  °"'"  ""*"« 
by  some  wandering  Zty  of  InTan?  'and'"  ''''''°"'"  °"  '""''" 
track   had   concluded  i^JitloilZ'uZ  foTL^e  fa?"   °"^ 

=T.eir:s.S"-r  ;;:r ,--  -^'-  -"^^ 

from  the  nearest  suppirpUce  we  could  InT  ".T  ''"•"" 
meal.  Grateful  for  what'litt";  we  did  spare  t^e  H  T"""'  " 
canoe   in  sight  all   mornin»    .   j    \.  '^      '   *'''  ^°^  ^^P*  our 

the  mouth  oran1ni:t-TtT;asT  o:r'mileract:^r;r  T" 
recognized  its  predicament,   and  for   hours  iuLwIf  ^^^      "'' 

wnHdeirar  rrin -7  w^- vriL-iatr^ 

but  while  the  s'ouni'wL'stni  rTg  n7°n '^ e:  r th«  J"^''T' 
ta...ed  on  shore  hy  stress  of  wefthfr  I  "V/rt'rJtrw^h.t 

Only  a  Siwash  dog,  gaunt,  ugly  and  lean; 
Too  currish  to  run,  yet  ashamed  to  be  seen; 
Yellow  and  stunted,  of  famine  the  mark; 
Worthless,  excepting  to  eat  and  to  bark- 
Deserted  on  shore  by  his  master  and  friends, 
With  a  shy,  furtive  look  to  our  camp  he  descends 


r  38  1 


A  one  in  Alaska-bleak,  barren  and  wild, 
Where  mountains  of  rock  on  each  other  are  piled  • 
Alone  on  a  strand   where  encampments  are  few' 
Where  mankind  is  scarce,  and  where  dogkind  is  too; 
Where  food  is  so  precious  that  none  could  wc  spare- 
ly rom  hampers  already  harassingly  bare. 

Only  a  Siwash  dog.  gaunt,  ugly  and  all; 
Why  worry  about  it.  his  earnings  are  small. 
Yet  still,  as  I  gaze  on  that  keen,  wistful  eye 
In  search  of  the  place  where  our  eatables  lie. 
My  heart  with  me  pleads  and  his  hunger  I  feel 
Till  pity  compels  me  to  give  him  a  meal. 

At  length  we  embark  and  row  out  from  the  bay  - 
The  dog  follows  hard,  on  the  beach,  half  a  day 
But  woe  to  his  hopes  for  a  crossing  we  make 
1  hat  leaves  him  a  prisoner  far  in  our  wake 
Out  stands  he  on  point  jutting  into  the  sea 
And  howl  after  howl  shows  his  deep  misery. 

Only  a  Siwash  dog,  gaunt,  ugly  and  lean ; 
Does  It  matter  at  all  what  his  ending  has  been' 
Perhaps  not ;  but  yet  as  we  paddle  along 
Commingling  life's  struggles  with  story  and  song, 
loo  clear  m  the  pauses  I  hear  on  the  wind. 
That  dumb  brute's  appeals,  as  we  left  him  behind. 

WHAT  THE  BELLBUOY  SAYS. 

Far  out  on  the  surf  of  a  rockbound  coast, 

The  bellbuoy  lonely  tolls. 
And  utters  its  weird,  uncanny  boast 

O'er  the  deep's  uncounted  ghouls. 

[39  J 


mm 


f   I 


It  rises  and  falls  with  the  restless  tide,— 
No  sea  can  immerse  its  song; 

The  wind  and  the  wave  alike  defied, 
But  strengthen  its  dong  ding  dong. 

Tolling,  tolling,  patiently  tolling, 
Over  the  billows  swelling  and  rolling, 
Dong  ding  dong,  dong  ding  dong. 
Look  to  your  helm,  your  course  is  wrong; 
Dong  ding  dong,  ding  dong,  ding  dong, 
This  is  the  bellbuoy's  lonely  song. 

Many  a  mariner  shrouded  in  fog- 
Feeling  his  doubtful  way- 
Relies  to  his  cost  on  compass  and  log, 

Till  warned  by  that  timely  lay. 
We  too  might  be  warned  as  we  enter  the  mist 

On  Life's  beclouded  main, 
For  a  voice  in  our  bosom,  if  we  but  list. 
Is  singing  the  self-same  strain 

Tolling,  tolling,  patiently  tolling. 

Over  Life's  billows  swelling  and  rolling, 

Dong  ding  dong,  dong  ding  dong. 

Look  to  your  helm,  your  course  is  wrong ; 

Dong  ding  dong,  ding  c'ong,  ding  dong. 

This  too  is  conscience's  whispered  song. 

THE  LAND  OF  THE  RISING  SUN. 

(Written  in  North  Bend.  Oregon,  ir   the  Winter  of  1891) 
They  may  talk  of  the  West,  of  the  wild,  woolly  West, 

With  its  valleys  and     lountains  of  gold. 
Where  the  bear  and  the  beaver  alone  can  molest 

The  miner  who  digs  in  its  mould ; 
Yet,  in  spite  of  its  wonders,  its  wealth,  and  its  weald, 

E'en  though  they  be  ten  times  increased. 
To  my  sad,  aching  heart,  they  can  never  impart 

The  joys  that  were  mine  in  the  East. 

[40] 


I 


It  was  there  that  I  first  saw  the  light  of  the  day, 

And  when  boyhood  upon  me  had  crept, 
Where  I  rambled  and  gamboled,  or,  tired  out  with  play. 

On   pillows  of  innocence  slept; 
Where  in  youth,  somewhat  sobered,  in  booklore  I  delved 

To  find  out  its  treasures  and  worth. 
Or  in  social  debate  with  companions  sedate, 

On  subjects  abstruse  have  held  forth. 

It  was  there  that  young  Cupid  discovered  my  heart, 

And  despite  all  my  struggles  and  wiles 
Sent  with  unerring  aim  his  most  dangerous  dart,— 

For  I've  been  ever  since  in  his  toils; 
Twas  there,  too,  ambition  first  harrowed  my  brain. 

And  before  I  was   even  aware, 
Set  me  chisel  in  hand,  carving  futures  in  sand, 

And  building  up  castles  in  air. 

It  is  there  that  my  sister,  kind-hearted  and  true. 

Plods  peacefully  onward  through   life; 
And  'tis  there  that  my  brother  bade  early  adieu 

To  earth's  pleasure  and  passion  and  strife; 
It  is  there  'neath  the  sod,  all  oblivious  to  care, 

That  my  father  and  mother  lie  low. 
While  the  grass  o'er  their  graves,  in  the  breeze  gently 
waves 

And  beckons  wherever  I  go. 

Though  to  far  foreign  climes  my  fleet  fate  I  pursue 

Still  my  thoughts  ever  backward  do  roam. 
And  I  often  recall  my  last  ling'ring  adieu 

To  the  friends  in  that  dear  distant  home; 
And  I  sigh  for  a  time  which  wili  cenainly  come. 

When  my  longings  and  wand'rings  have  ceased; 
Then  its  thither  I'll  fly,  there  to  settle  and  die, 

Near  my  dear  native  home  in  the  East. 


[  41  ] 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  NOBILITY. 

The  Iron  Age. 

In  the  times  of  Norman  William 

He  who  fain  would  be  a  lord, 
Had  to  fight  his  way  to  glory, 

And  with  blood  bedew  his  sword. 
Then— according  to  the  Savons— 

Greatest  peers  were  pr-  ..tes,  knaves; 
And  they  were  the  noi^l-   t  uarons 

Who  had  filled  most  patriot  graves. 

The   Brazen   Age. 

In  fi     days  of  much  wived  Henry, 

And  the  days  of  second  Charles,' 
/^ve  became  the  happy  medium 

That  transformed   the  rogues   to   Earls 
Were  you  then  a  humble  Mister, 

You  your  lowly  lot  must  bear. 
Till  you  got  a  pretty  sister 

Or  a  daughter  that  was  fair. 

The  Golden  Ace. 

But  the  sword  has  lost  its  savor  ;— 

Love  and  business  sometimes  clash  ;— 
If  you'ld  now  be  high  in  favor, 

You  must  pay  the  price  in  cash. 
Lenient  smiles  are  not  unwelcome; 

Nor  for  that  a  warrior's  suit; 
Yet  if  you  can  buy  a  Dukedom— 

You  can  have  the  rest  to  boot. 


[  42  ] 


JUKILEE  ODE. 

queen  ann.verwry   of   the   crowning   of    V.cor.a. 

Blow  loud  and  long  the  trumpets, 
Let  music  fill  the  air; 

Rejoice,    rejoice,   ye   patriots; 
Shake  off  all   toilsome  care. 

Come  forth,  ye  faithful  subjects. 
And  shout  the  Klad'ning  strain; 

Sing  out  the  glorious  gospel- 
Victoria    still    doth    reign. 

Through  fifty  long  and  changing  years, 

With  firm,  yet  loving  hand. 
She's  carried  out  a  nation's  will. 

And  boldly  ta'cn   her  stand; 
Her  sway  is  felt  o'er  land  and  wave. 

And  many  a  distant  shore 
This  day  resounds  with  notes  of  praise 

For  her   whom    we  adore. 

Then  let  us  all  in  unison 

Sing  out  the  joyful  tune; 
Our  queen  in  truth  wears  golden  crown. 

This  twenty-first  of  June. 
Come  all  ye  loyal  maidens. 

Chant  our  triumphal  glee; 
With  one  accord  we'll  celebrate 

Our  Sov'reign's  Jubilee. 


CANADA. 

Oh  Canada,  thou   fairest  child. 

Of  Britain  old  and  strong; 
A  home-proud  bard  thy  wondnotes  wild 

Would  crystallize  in  song: 

r  43  ] 


Thy  realm  so  healthy,  rich  and  vast 

Is  lapped  by  many  a  sea; 
Thy  lakes  and  rivers  unsurpassed 

Are  emblems  of  the   free. 

Thy  mountains  filled  with  wealth  untold 

High  up  in  air  do  rise; 
Their  snow  cap'd  tops  in  mists  of  gold 

Are  hidden  from  our  eyes. 
Thy  woodlands  bloom  with  lordly  pines, 

And   maples    fresh   and    green. 
Thy  valleys,  cover'd  o'er  with  grain, 

Are  smiling  with  its  sheen. 

May  Peace,  Prosperity  and  Power, 

Be  thine  for  evermore; 
May   staunch   Integrity,  thy  dower, 

Be  known  from  shore  to  shore: 
May  thy  good  name  ne'er  tarnish'd  be 

By  tyrant's  cruel  hand: 
This,  Canada,  I  wish  for  thee. 

My    own,   my   native   land. 

OLD   IRELAND   FOREVER. 
Written  for  my  Iriah  friends,  R.  J.  H.  and  J.  A.  M. 

Though  Burns  and  Scott  with  poets'  skill 
Have  famous  made  each  Scottish  rill; 
Though  Hogg  makes  many  a  bosom  thrill, 
I   must   confess,   I'm   Irish   still. 

Though  England,  with  unwonted  zeal, 
To  Shakespeare's  genius   may   appeal- 
Though  she  may  proud  of  Dickens  feel, 
I  love  the  land  of  Swift  and  Steele. 


[44  ] 


Though  Frenchmen  laugh  at  Moliere's  mirth 
Or  read  of  Hugo  round  their  hearth  • 
Though  Germans  talk  of  Goethe's  worth 
I'm  from  the  land  of  Goldsmith's  birth. 

Though  Yankees,  with  a  patriot  smile, 
May  praise  Longfellow's  winning  style 
Or  talk  of  Irving  all  the  while, 
I'd  fain  have  Moore  my  hours  beguile. 

Though  poets  near  and  far  abroad 
Their  home  and  country  well  may  laud, 
I  still  with  fervor  pray  that  God 
Will  bless  my  own  dear  Erin's  sod. 

THE  CITY  OF  FLOWERS 

All  you  who  dread  Winter,  with  what  it  implies, 

in  the  far  away  realms  of  Jack  Frost  • 
And  you  who  are  stricken  when  Dame  Nature  dies, 

And  would  fly  from  her  snows  at  all  cosf 
And  you,  too,  who  toil,  yet  are  tired  of  the  slrife 

And  think  you've  earned  leisure  to  spare  •        ' 
And  you  who  are  seeking  a  new  lease  of  life 

But  can  find  no  environment  fair; 

Oh  say,  won't  you  come  to  our  City  of  Flowers— 

To  our  homes  amid  greensward   and   bloom- 
Where   while  o'er  your  bleak  land  the  blizzard  cloud 
lowers. 

We  are  basking  in  bowers  of  perfume 
Oh  say.  won't  you  come  where  the  palms  whisper  low 

And  the  tall  oleanders  wave  free; 
Where  the  royal  poincianas,  in  scarlet  aglow. 

Are  bowing  and  beckoning  to  thee  ? 

[  45  1 


Oh  say,  won't  you  come  and  enjoy,  while  you  may, 

The  enchantment  of  Tropical  skies; 
And  see  the  famed  sunsets  that  hallow  our  day. 

And  the  love-storied  moonlight  we  prize. 
Oh    say,    won't   you    come   and    breathe    zephyrs   of 
health. 

In  a  bourne  where  youth  ceases  its  flight; 
Where    the    days    creep    upon    us    with    unperceived 
stealth. 

And  we  dream  away  care  in  a  night? 

Oh  come,  and  be  charmed  with  our  redbird's  bright 
wing, 
With  the  plumes  of  the  lovely  bluejay; 

And  list  to  the  songs  that  the  mockingbirds  sing- 
Feel  the  throb  of  our  whippoorwill's  lay. 

Oh  say,  won't  you  come  and  be  clasped  in  the  brine, 
Of  the  Southland's  warm  billowy  wave, 

As  it  flashes  and  glints  in  the  merry  sunshine, 
Or  breaks  at  our  feet  as  we  lave? 

Won't  you  come  and  hook  "kings"  from  our  ocean- 
swept  pier? 

Won't  you  troll  for  lake  trout  as  we  sail? 
Won't  you  follow  the  fawn  in  our  Everglades  near; 

And  encamp  on  the  Seminole's  trail? 
Or  come,  if  you  will,  and  be  one  at  the  fea^t 

That  we  offer  of  grapefruit  and  pine; 
Of  the  orange  and  banana  and  mango— nor  least. 

Of  the  pear  avocado  divine. 

Oh  say,  won't  you  come— or  if  Fashion's  the  wile 
That  must  lure  you  from  Boreal  Blast; 

We  can  boast  in  "The  Season"  society's  smile. 
And  of  "functions"  a  daily  repast. 


* 


[  46  ] 


Then  conie!    Oh.  do  come!  to  our  City  of  Flowers 
And  partake  of  our  bliss  we  beseech '  ' 

^or°lw:::""^^'^^^— -^-h-gethe. 

Of  the  Heaven  that  you'll  find  at  PALM  BEACH. 

HOTEL  ROYAL  POL\CIAXA. 
Royal    Poinciana!      Hostelry    complete' 

Monarch  of  Inns  and  chief  of  all  resorts! 

Withm  thy  walls,  about  thy  beauteous  courts 
Meander  guests  from  many  a  far  retreat. 

Luxurious  ease  upon  the  grandest  scale 

Presentsitself  to  all  who  woo  thy  bliss; 

Music  and  wine  and  mayhap  Siren's  kiss 

Conspire  to  hold  them  in  thy  pleasant  pale. 

Strength    beauty,  wisdom,  coronets  and  power 
Are  all  attracted  by  thy  multi  charms:  ' 

Ins.de  thy  gates  would  stretch  each  honeyed  hour. 

Diamonds  and  sparkling  eyes  in  conflict  rare 
Venus  disdainful  though  Adonis  pleads  ' 
Statesmen  and  magnates  in  unstudied  deeds. 

Might  well  entice  the  most  fastidious  stare. 

But  these  are  merely  items  in  the  bill 
Relieved  by  backgrounds  in  some  palm  tree  grove. 
VV here  golfers  gather,  or  where  nimrods  rove 

And  catch  complainings  of  the  whippoorwill.      ' 

Thy  ball  room  floor,  where  happy  couples  meet. 
V\«th  grace  and  chivalry  revives  the  eve,  • 
Th>  vast  rotunda  while  "The  Season''  vies. 

The  world  concedes  is  "Fashion's  very  seat." 
[  47  J 


Royal  Poinciana!    Millionaires'  delight! 

Goal  of  the  tourist,  antipodes  of  care! 

Where  is  there  Inn  that  can  with  thee  compare? 
Where  is  resort  where  time  makes  quicker  flight  ? 

MUNYON'S  ENCHANTED  ISLE. 

Come  all  ye  frost  enshrouded, 

Come  ye,  by   earthquake  tost; 
Come  ye,  by  storm  o'erclouded, 

And  ye   in  blizzard  lost; 
From  lowland  and  from  highland, 

From  mountain,  \ale  and  plain 
En  route  to  Munyon's  Island 

Come,  join  the  crowded  train. 

The  way  may  seem  to  weary. 

The  journey  may  be  long; 
But  what  at  first  is  dreary. 

Will  end  in  flowers  and  song. 
For  in  a  dreamy  ocean. 

Beneath   Floridian  skies. 
The  Isle  of  our  devotion 

In  tropic  grandeur  lies. 

Chameleons  in  the  banyans 

Display   their  opal   hues; 
And  redbirds  vie  with  bluebirds 

Their  brightness  to  diffuse; 
Orange  blossoms  scent  the  breezes 

That  waft  o'er  land  and  sea; 
While   song  of   mocker  pleases 

And  fills  the  air  with  glee. 


[  48  ] 


Tall  palms  are  proudly  waving 

A  welcome  to  the  host, 
To  test  Hotel  Hygiea— 

The  gourmet's  loudest  boast. 
To  come  and  try  the  fishing. 

The  boating  and  the  views; 
And  thus  instead  of  wishing, 
'IN  FACT  dull  care  to  lose. 

From  out  Hygiea's  watchtower 

You'll  see  Worth's   ebbing  tide 
Pass  gaily  thro'  the  Inlet 

To  swell  Atlantic  wide; 
You'll  see  great  ocean  liners 

Upon  the  near  gulf  stream, 
Low  down  by  treasure  laden. 

Drag  trains  of  smoke  and  steam. 

The  shell-strewn  shore  lies  whitening 

As  o'er  its  length  you  scan. 
From    Coniff's    Island    hermitage 

To  lone  Manalapan; 
At  Jupiter,  the   lighthouse 

Stands  out  by  night  or  day, 
While  yonder   is  the   Everglades, 

A  few  short  miles  away. 

You'll  see  Mangonia  pine  fields 
And  Riviera's  groves ; 

And  fancy  woodnyniphs  sporting 
In  fair  Lantana's  coves. 

Here  Juno's   sawgrass    marshes, 
There    Hypoluxo's    farms. 

Or  gay  Palm  Beach  in  easier  reach- 
Ail  lend  their  varied  charms. 


[  49  J 


Then,  come  ye  frost  enshrouded, 

And  ye  by  earthquake  tost; 
And  ye  by  storm  o'erclouded 

And  ye   in  blizzard   lost; 
From  lowland  and   from  highland 

From  mountain,  vale  and  plain; 
Come  rest  on  Munyon's  Island 

And    renewed    youth   obtain. 

CAST  UP  BY  THE  SEA. 

Just  above  high  water  mark  on  the  beach  at  Boca   Raton* 

the  re^r       ."""'''  '''°"''''  '""^  '"  '  '""^'^  ^^'''^  '"  -"1*1^; 
the  remains  of  ^a  young  woman  washed  ashore  some  years  ago. 

llZ  TLZ"  ^f  .*••»*«:"  "  »°  »•"  ''J'n^i'y  or  as  to  whether 
It  was  ?.  case  of  shipwreck  or  suicide,  and  so  to  save  the  County 

:^z  ;ir" """-' '" '""' "-'  •■> "» "-  -'- 

At  Boca  Ratone,  where  the  beach  is  wide, 
And  the  surf  breaks  fierce  on  the  flowing  tide; 
From  billowy  depths  as  they  toss  and  roar— 
The  form  of  a  woman  was  washed  ashore. 

From  billowy  depths  of  unlimited  sea- 
How  far  she  had  come  was  a  mystery! 
No  loved  one  had  followed  to  whisper  her  worth- 
To  tell  of  her  country— to  tell  of  her  birth. 

Alone  had  she  drifted  from  vacant  deep- 
Alone  and  all  silent  in  Death's  blank  sleep : 
'Twas  nought  to  her  now  that  the  fickle  wave 
Had  even  refused  her  a  watery  grave. 

Nor  nothing  indeed  that  the  shifting  sand, 
And  the  unsought  aid  of  a  stranger's  hand, 
Had  oflPered  a  haven  of  rest  at  last 
On  the  flowery  land  where  her  corse  was  cast. 


t     I 


[  50  ] 


Whatever  her  story— how  weary  or  sad, 
How  noble  and  earnest,  how  awful,  how  glad: 
It  is  here  at  an  end  and  the  glancing  foam 
Weeps  misty  tears  by  her  last,  long  home; 

And  the  swaying  palmettoes  that  shelter  her  bed, 
To  the  winds  make  moan  o'er  the  unknown  dead; 
While  travelers  hushed  by  the  ocean's  boom. 
Hear  sermons  from  God  at  that  lonely  tomb. 

DELRAY  TO   PROSPER  IN  SPITE  OF  THE 
DEVIL. 

An  application  of  the  art  of  poetry  to  the  science  of  developing 
real  estate.  Delray  is  a  Michigan  Colony  located  18  miles  south 
of  Palm  Beach,  Florida,  and,  owing  to  its  central  location  close  to 
the  Everglades,  is  rapidly  forging  ahead.  It  is  the  author's 
pleasure  to  own  some  of  the  Earth  at  Delray,  and  in  develop- 
ing the  same,  used  the  following  verses  as  an  advertisement: 
The  Devil  came  to  me  one  night  in  my  dreams. 

And  addressed  me  with  fire  in  his  eye, 
And  asked  me  why  I  was  frustrating  his  schemes, 

And  assured  me  his  vengeance  was  nigh. 

With  the  utmost  of  meekness  I  told  the  old  gent. 

He  surely  had  made  some  mistake; 
I  had  no  intent  to  do  aught  he'd  resent 

And  I  could  not  recall  any  "break." 

Said  he  (and  his  words  fairly  sizzled  with  heat) 

"You  are  helping  to  prosper  my  foe; 
"You  are  building  up  places  where  I  have  no  seat 

"And  where  I'm  denied  the  least  show." 

"Denied  the  least  show!    Where  you  have  no  seat! 

"What  mean  you  great  Satan  I  pray?" 
"I  mean,"  and  blue  flames  seemed  to  stream  from  his 
feet, 

"You    ARE    MAKING    A    TOWN    OF    DeLRAV  I" 

[  51  ] 


Hi 


"Me  make  a  town!     Don't  fool  yourself  Nick, 

"I'm  simply  the  handmaid  of  Fate." 
"Too  true,"  said  the  Devil,  "and  that  makes  me  sick, 

"And  is  why  I  now  threaten  my  hate." 

"So  remember,  though   Hell  cannot  stop   Delray's 
growth, 

"Because  it  is  bound  to  succeed. 
"Unless  You  desist  (and  then  followed  an  oath) 

"I'll  get  knockers  to  make  you  give  heed." 

"Then,"  said  I,  "if  Delray  is  dead  sure  of  success, 

"I  care  not  a  straw  for  your  threat: 
"Let  the  knocfcers  begin  with  their  knocks  and  their  din, 

"I  can  stand  it  if  they  can  vou  bet." 

With  this  parting  thrust  I  awoke,  and  behold! 

Old  Nick  had  quite  vanished  away; 
But  he  made  good  his  threat,  for  his  agents  are  yet 

Knocking  vainly  fast  growing  Delray. 

CARRY  A  HIGH  IDEAL. 

Carry  a  high  ideal.     Better  on  crusts  to   feed 
Than  give  the  tempter  heed.     Better  a  humble  cot 
That  is  yours  by  honest  lot.  than  live  in  a  palace  fair 
With  turrets  high  in  air.  if  its  foundation  stones 
Must     cover     victims'     bones- were     purchas-.d     with 
others'  blood. 

Carry  a  high  ideal.     Better  to  not  believe 
Than  like  hypocrite  deceive.    Better  a  heathen's  fear. 
If  in  that  you  can  be  sin  •  re.    Better  to  grope  in  doubt 
Hoping  some  pathway  out;  than  in  conformist  pew 
For  a  God,  you  never  knew,  to  chatter  a  parrot's  praise. 


[  52  ] 


Carry  a  high  ideal.     Better  a  single  life 
Than  an  unhonored  wife.    Better  to  stand  and  lean 
Over  an  empty  chair,  dreaming  who  might  be  there, 
Than  to  build  a  home  and  throne  and  on  that  throne 

of  home 
Place  one  who  is  not  queen— make  all  that's  real  unreal. 

Carry  a  high  ideal.     Better  like  martyr  wracked 
Than  famed  for  wrongful  act.    Better  to  live  unknown, 
Unfriended  and  alone,  but  with  no  conscience  sting — 
Than  be  a  guilty  king  by  tyranny  encrowned — 
Than  be  the  lord  renowned  of  a  land  where  might  is 
right. 

Carry  a  high  ideal.     Better  to  fix  your  eye 

On  blue  ethereal  sky  and,  ere  you  reach  it,  die — 

Than  through   your  lengthened  days  be  content   with 

lower  gaze. 
Better  to  even  fail  in  an  aim  of  lofty  scale 
Than  where  the  end  is  less  to  obtain  complete  success. 

NATURE'S  COMFORTERS. 

Babies,   and  music,  and  flowers; — 

Tokens  of  infinite  love — 
Coming  like   soft   summor   showers. 

Fresh  from  the  heavens  above : 
These,  in  our  moments  of   sadness, 

Temper  our  sorrows  with  joy, 
Fill  our  lone  hearts  with  their  gladness, 

Banish  all  baneful  alloy. 


r  53  ] 


:) 


,i 


Delicate  roses  and  lilies: 

Buttercups,  glisteningr  with  dew 
Dear  little  daffodowndillies ; 

Violets,  hiding   from  view; 
These   prove  their   Maker's  protection 

Promise  His  provident  powers: 
Kindle  each  finer  affection; 

Solace  our  loneliest  hours. 

Touches  of  ecstatic  passion; 

Whispered  suggestions  of  woe; 
Breathings   of   coming  elation; 

Mem'ries  of  long,  long  ago: 
These  into  harmony  blended. 

Aided  by  angelic  art, 
Lighten  the  loads  that  offended, 

Melt  e'en  the  stoniest  heart. 

Innocent,  infantile  charmers,— 

Flowers   and   music  combined,— 
Smiling   faced,   dimpled   disarmers. 

Ruling  both  matter  and  mind: 
Plucked  from  the  meadows  of  heaven; 

Cooing  in  melody  sweet; 
These  are  (in  tenderness  given) 

God's  antidote  for  deceit. 

Babies,   and   music,   and  flowers,— 

Tokens  of  infinite  love — 
Coming  like  soft,  summer  showers. 

Fresh   from   the  heavens  above: 
These,  in  our  moments  of  sadness. 

Temper   our   sorrows   with   joy. 
Fill  our  lone  hearts  with  their  gladness, 

Banish  all  baneful  alloy. 


[541 


A    POET'S    PLIGHT. 

Thit  poem  it  the  recollection  of  an  experience  which  the  author 
once  went  through  near  Portland,  Oregon.  It  was  undoubtedly  a 
puniahment  meted  out  by  Providence  for  a  more  than  ordinarily 
glaring  lack  of   foresight. 

The  friends  referred  to  in  the  last  verse  are  B.  E.  and  J.  S. 
Lyster,  then  of  Coos  County,  Oregon,  and  formerly  of  Richmond, 
Quebec,    Canada. 

Broke!   Broke!   Broke! 

Was  the  lot  of  a  wandering  bard; 
Broke!    Broke!    Broke! 

In  a  city  where  nobody  cared ; 
Broke!    Broke!    Broke! 

And  in  misery,  hunger  and  rags, 
He  tried  hard  to  get  work, 
The  dishonor  to  shirk 

Of  being  imprisoned  with  "vags." 

Hope!  Hope!  Hope! 

Could  he  only  get  out  of  the  town; 
Hope!  Hope!  Hope! 

He  might  then  escape  poverty's  frown ; 
Hope!  Hope!   Hope! 

But  how  best  was  the  thing  to  be  done  ? 
He  must  certainly  walk, 
For  his  long-hoarded  stock 

To  the  drainings  was  now  nearly  run. 

Tramp !    Tramp !    Tramp ! 

Without  e'en  a  change  to  his  back; 
Tramp !    Tramp !    Tramp ! 

O'er  the  ties  of  a  hard,  stony  track; 
Tramp !    Tramp !    Tramp ! 

Till  his  old  clothes  began  to  wear  out ; 
Then  with  feet  almost  bare, 
And  with  husks  for  his  fare, 

Highest  hopes  were  soon  turned  into  doubt. 

[  55  ] 


^ 


Tired!   Tired!   Tired! 

As  he  counted  the  tics  on  his  way; 
Tired!   Tired!   Tired! 

Still  he  plodded  along,  day  by  day; 
Tired!   Tired!   Tired! 

And  as  weeks  followed  others  along, 
Was  it  wonder  he  sighed 
O'er  the  grave  of  his  pride? 

Or  that  plaintive  and  sad  was  his  song? 

Sleep!   Sleep!    Sleep! 

Would  he  ever  again  know  its  bliss? 
Sleep!   Sleep!   Sleep! 

What  misdeed  had  he  sown  to  reap  this? 
Sleep!   Sleep!   Sleep! 

How  it  mocked  through  the  long  dreary  night; 
As  with  straw  for  a  bed, 
In  some  dark,  dingy  shed, 

He  lay  cursing  grim  fate  for  his  plight. 

Dreams !   Dreams !    Dreams ! 

Of  the  pleasures  he  knew  in  the  past; 
Dreams!    Dreams!    Dreams! 

O'er  his  troubles  a  halo  they  cast; 
Dreams !    Dreams !    Dreams ! 

But  alas!   they  were  fitful  and  brief; 
And  but   served,  while  awake, 
Greater  contrasts  to  make; 

Thus  adding  more  fuel  to  his  grief. 

Sick!   Sick!   Sick! 

For  misfortunes  ne'er  singly  do  come; 
Sick!   Sick!   Sick! 

Lying  thousands  of  miles  from  his  home ; 
Sick!   Sick!   Sick! 

Thickly  covered  with  vermin  and  rags. 


f 

if. 


[56] 


May  the  horrors  he  knew 
Be   the  lot   of   but   few, 
As  he  moaned  on  his  pillow  of  bags. 


Bread!   Bread!   Bread! 
Once  again  he  must  take  to  the  road ; 

Bread'   Bread!   Bread! 
With  fell  Hunger  his  leader  and  goad; 

Bread!   Bread!   Bread! 
Bui  the  people  were  deaf  to  his  wants — 

He   was  only  a  tramp, 

And  most  likely  a  scamp- 
So  they  answered  his  pleadings  with  taunts. 

Friends !   Friends !   Friends ! 

After  long  weeks  of  tramping  had  passed; 
Friends !   Friends !   Friends ! 

The  poor  poet  found  favor  at  last; 
Friends !    Friends !    Friends ! 

Wl  -1  generously  gave  him  a  start ; 
And  a  song  in  whose  praise. 
To  the  end  of  his  days. 

He  will  sing  from  the  depths  oi  his  heart. 

MY  FRIEND  JACK. 

I  had  a  boon  companion,  a  tried  and  trusty  fr'end; 

Together   we   had  played    when   we   were  boys; 
Together  had  we  rambled,  nor  recked  that  youth  must 
end, 

And  with  it  all  its  dearest  cherished  joys. 

His  smile  was  all  I  wished  for  to  crown  a  boyish  feat ; 

To  him  I  told  whatever  went  amiss : 
Our  secret  thoughts  were  common,  nor  were  our  hopes 
complete 

Without  each  being  party  to  their  bliss. 

I  57  ] 


But  time  is  ever  fleeting;  no  longer  did  we  play 
The  games  that  had  beguiled  each  childish  hour; 

And  as  we  grew  to  manhood  with  ev'ry  passing  day, 
Our  boy  love  gained  intensity  and  power. 

I  gloried  in  his  friendship-  the  purest  gift  on  earth ; 

I  felt  that  he  was  noble  and  sincere; 
I  proudly  called  him  comrade,  and  recognized  his  worth 

In  striving  by  his  life  my  own  to  steer. 

But  best  of  friends  are  parted— ambition  cut  the  tie; 

I  left  him,  travelled  honors  fain  to  earn: 
And  being  young  and  sanguine  I  scarcely  heaved  a  sigh, 

Anticipating  soon  a  sweet  return. 

Three  summers  slowly  faded,  and  still  from  him  apart. 

My  phantom  fortune  held  me  far  away: 
But   mem'ry's  tender  missives   kept  warm    within   my       [ 
heart  ' 

A  corner  where  that  friend  had  perfect  sway.  | 

Then  hopes  grew  bright  and  brighter— good  times  were 
drawing  near: 

Soon  back  to  him  and  home  I  would  be  bound ; 
When  suddenly  a  message  made  life  a  prospect  drear ; 

The  comrade  of  my  boyhood  had  been  drowned. 


w 


I  58] 


I 


TIES  MASONIC. 

Shall  distress  assail  a  brother 

Whom  we've  promised  to  befriend? 
Shall  the  tear  of  wife  or  mother 

Fall  and  have  no  other  end? 
Shall  a  cry  of  hunger  reach  us 

From  the  starving  child  of  one, 
Whose  thin,  grave-blanched  lips  beseech  us 
To  recall  "the  widow's  son?" 

Ties  Masonic — Ties  Masonic — 

These  indeed  are  ties  that  bind: 
Melancholy  vows  and  holy 
Brother's  needs  bring  to  our  mind. 

Shall  we  wait  till  Pride  has  broken, 

And  Want  stretches  forth  its  hand? 
Shall  we  spoil  the  friendly  token 

With   rebuke   and    reprimand? 
Shall  aid  go  forth  as  mere  duty 

To  the  victin-.s  that  insist? 
Scorn  such  thought  for  then  the  beauty 

Of  Masonic  aid  is  missed. 

Let  us  search  by  stealth  for  troubles 

Lurking  in  our  brother's  home; 
Do  not  let  him  make  it  double 

And    a    suppliant    become. 
When  we  find  it    let  us  measure 

How  best  to  relieve  each  need : 
And  in  duty  show  our  pleasure — 

That  is  Masonry  indeed. 


[  59  ] 


iiJH 


1 


SAILOR'S  SONG. 

Land !  land  in  sight !    See  Belle  Isle  light ! 

Heave   ho,   my   lads,   heave   ho! 
Eyes  wet  with  joy— ripe  lips  ahoy 

Heave  ho  1  heave  ho !  heave  ho ! 
One  more  short  day  upon  the  main 
And  then  we'll  be  on  land  again, 

Heave  ho  I  heave  ho ! 

The  tossing  F-a  is  full  of  glee, 

Heave  ho,  .ny  lads,  heave  ho! 
It  gives  us  health,  it  gives  us  wealth ; 

Heave  ho!  heave  ho!  heave  ho! 
But  wealth  and  health  and  glee  galore 
Are  only  earned  for  use  on  shore. 

Heave  ho!    heave  ho! 

We  love  to  brave  the  flashing  wave, 

Heave  ho,  my  lads,  heave  ho! 
There's  nerve  and  power  where  tempests  lower. 

Heave  ho!  heave  ho!  heave  ho! 
But  who  would  live  a  sailor's  life 
If  sailors  had  nor  home,  nor  wife? 

Heave  ho!  heave  ho! 

Let  all  who  will  their  stories  tell, 

Heave  ho,  my  lads,  heave  ho! 
Of  bliss  in  store  mid  ocean's  roar; 

Heave  ho!  heave  ho!  heave  ho! 
But  when  sea  joys  are  put  to  test 
The  joy  of  sighting  land  is  best. 

Heave  ho !  heave  ho ! 


f  i 


[  60  ] 


TO  MY  WALKING-STICK. 

An   address   supposed   to    be   spoken   by   a   dying   bard. 

Time  honored  trophy,  friend  in  life's  decline! 
Here  list  the  praises  of  the  tuneful  nine. 
Full  oft  I've  tried  thee,  yet  like  tempered  steel. 
Still  found  thee  faithful  or  in  woe  or  weal. 
Now  ere  deserted  by  the  fleeting  muse, 
Loud  let  me  sing  thee  and  my  zeal  excuse. 

Dim  in  my  memory  through  the  distant  years ; 
Dim  yet  distinctly  I   discern  the  tears. 
Shed  from  these  eyes  when,  that  I  might  be  great. 
Hard  on  my  shoulders  I  first  knew  thy  weight;— 
Since  a  wise  father,  in  all  else  so  mild, 
Thought  that  to  spare  the  rod  must  spoil  the  child. 

Soon  older  grown,  nor  bearing  malice  long; 
With  you  as  mine  I  thread  the  giddy  throng; 
Swinging  with  jaunty  air  my  new-found  mate, 
Aping  the  actions  of  the  seeming  great ; 
Till  led  by  pride  I  think  each  curious  stare 
Proves  mc  resistless  to  the  gazing  fair. 

Now  undeceived,  nor  used  to  useless   load, 
Oftei,    I've  left  thee  at  some  friend's  abode; 
Where  back  I  trudge  still  loth  to  lose  the  toy. 
Given  by  a  parent  to  his  hopeful  boy. 
Given  as  a  keepsake  ere  its  worth  is  guessed; 
Nor  known  how  truly  it  would  stand  time's  test. 

Vet  soon  1  learn  that  in  the  hour  of  need. 
When,  urged  by  envy  or  despair  or  greed, 
Some  ruffian  chooses  to  become  my  foe. 
With  you  beside  me  and  your  knotty  woe, 
I  need  not  fear  assailant's  hungry  hand ; — 
Since  none  dare  tempt  too  far  my  magic  wand. 

I  61   ] 


Often,  ah,  often  in  the  midst  of  strife. 
Have  you  lent  succor  to  my  wavering  life; 
For  aging  limbs  on  you  could  always  count 
As  up  the  crumbling  steep  fate  bade  me  mount : 
And  as  the  years  rolled  on  with  ceaseless  tide, 
In  darkening  pathways  you  have  been  my  guide. 

Now,  since  the  way  fast  leads  me  to  life's  goal ; 
Those  who  survive  may  ease  a  hovering  soul, 
If,  when  I'm  gathered  to  the  life  to  come; 
And  my  remains  arc  laid  within  the  tomb; 
They  close  beside  me  with  loved  care  will  deign 
To  place  that  oldest  friend — my  faithful  cane. 


1 


TO  MY  TRUNK, 

Thou  dumb  companion  on  my  wandering  way! 
Kind,  mute  consoler,  when  from  home  I  stray! 
For  thee,  good  Trunk,  my  grateful  muse  takes  wing 
That  all  with  me  thy  praises  true  may  sing. 
Why  do  I  prize  thee?    Ask  me  rather  why, 
So  long  I've  prized  nor  sung  thee  to  the  sky. 
Was  it  not  you,  who,  in  my  tender  years, 
I  longed  to  own  yet  had  no  coin  but  tears ; 
Till,  when  with  age,  stray  dimes  to  dollars  grew, 
Each  one  was  saved ;  then  glad  exchanged  for  you ': 
Forget  it?     No!     That  happy,  happy  day, 
Still  comes  to  mind  when  'neath  thy  lid  first  lay : 
My  cherished  top,  my  jackknife,  and  my  ball; 
My  marble  wealth  and  boyhood's  treasures  all ; 
Nor  yet  must  I  omit  to  tell  the  glee, 
When  you  were  locked,  I  felt  to  hold  the  key. 
Such  joys  soon  pass;  ambition  interfered; 
Into  the  world  my  wayward  bark  I  steered. 
And  as  I  left  my  father's  favored  home. 
You — only  you — came   out  with   me  to  roam. 
Afar  we  sped,  my  silent  trunk  and  I, 

[  62  ] 


TiWff!! 


Now  here,  now  there,  our  fortunes  did  we  try ! 
Each  place  I  went  my  first  thought  was  of  thee. 
In  turn  for  which  I  had  your  sympathy. 
When  spent  and  weak  with  life's  unending  feud ; 
When  tired  and  faint,  I  sighed  in  mournful  mood ; 
From  out  your  depths  how  often  have  1  drawn 
Cheer,  warmth  and  memories  of  the  days  long  gone. 
Close  by  my   bed,   wherever  I   have  been, 
All  my  most  private  acts,  you,  Trunk,  have  seen ; 
Yet  unlike  other  friends,  all  that  you  know. 
Sleeps  in  your  shattered  frame  sacred  from  foe. 
Dear  battered  box,  no  odds  how  worn  or  old. 
Deep  in  my  heart  an  honored  spot  you  hold. 
Be  not  cast  down  if  other  frunks  look  new 
J  will,  for  service  past,  still  cling  to  you. 

THE  "BFAVER." 

On  some  rocks  near  the  entrance  to  Burrard  Inlet,  B  C  lies 
all  that  remains  of  the  "Beaver."  the  pioneer  steamer  of  Ameri- 
cas  Pacific  Coast.  Naturally  enough,  considering  her  age  she 
>s  not  a  vessel  of  very  large  tonnage;  while  her  machinery  and 
accommodation,  though  a  marvel  at  the  time  of  construction 
are  to  a  modern  eye  of  the  very  rudest  description.  Not- 
withstanding  these  facts,  however,  the  old  fossil  may  very  justly 
be  termea  the  fore-runner  of  civilization  in  British  Columbia, 
for  prior  to  her  app  arance,  the  valley  of  the  Fraser  and  the 
province  generally  for  that  matter,  was  the  haunt  only  of  bears 
and  of  Indians.* 

Beside  Trade's  brisk  and  busy  way, 

The   Beaver,  stranded,   lies; 
Her   storied   timbers,   ocean's  prey, 

Or  greedy  vandal's   prize. 
Her  days  of  usefulness  gone  by. 

Upon   her   rocky  bed, 
•  She  starts  and  strains  with  creak  and  sigh, 

To  find  her  glory  fled. 

'Since  this  poem  was  written  the  action  of  a  pitiless  tide 
has  completed  the  vessel's  destruction.  Not  a  vestige  now 
remains  of  what  was  once  "The   Beaver." 

[  63   1 


^Si^^^^^?!5^B5Bc^«?T!^^Sl 


f      .:| 


The  world  moves  on  with  thankless  jeer, 

Nor  calls  to  mind  the  day 
When  round  Cape  Horn,  with  welcome  cheer, 

She  steamed  her  maiden  way. 
Pacific's  pioiieer — she   faced 

To  conquer  ev'ry  "how?" 
And  dauntlessly  through  unknown  waste 

Pushed  firm  her  sturdy  prow. 

From  Golden  Gate  to   Cariboo, 

Each  miner  owned  her  fame ; 
And  loudly,  when  she  hove  in  view. 

Sent  heavenward  her  name : 
From  far-off  climes  she  brought  them  news, 

While  stored  within  her  hold, 
Were  comforts  that  could  re-enthuse 

Tired  searchers  after  gold. 

She  came  the  harbinger  of  good. 

While  virgin  forests  bowed. 
But   what  she  brought  in  hopeful  mood 

H.s  long  since  proved  her  shroud. 
Her  coming  loosed  a  mighty  wheel, 

V^   :idi,   slowly  turning   round. 
Has  crushed   her   hopes   with   heartless   zeal, 

Nor  uttered  pitying  sound. 


a   fat 


c. 


But  dear  old  Beaver,   such 

Is  not  alone  your  due; 
There's  naught  exists  but  soon  or  late 

Will   l)c   neglected   too. 
Reform  and  change,  ail  laws  derange; 

E'en   modes   of   life   and    faith, 
Like  you  and  I.  come  but  to  die : — 

There's  nothing  sure  save  Death. 


[  64  ] 


THE  GOOD  OLD  TIMES. 

While  on  my  couch  at  even's  close, 

My  work  and  worry  o'er, 
I  lay  me  down  in  brief  repose. 

To  think  of  bliss  in   store; 
My  mem'ry  flits  to  other  climes, 

And  musingly  I  sigh, 
To  live  again  those  good  old  times — 

Those  good  old  times  gone  by. 

The  pleasures  that  are  mine  to-day 

May    seem    without    alloy : 
New  friends  may  be  as  blithe  and  gay ; 

New  hopes  as  full  of  joy ; 
But  spite  of   present  merry  chimes, 

My  thoughts   still  backward  fly, 
To  revel  with  those  good  old  times — 

Those  good  old  times  gone  by. 

My  days   were  brighter  then  than   now ; 

Ambition  seemed  more  real ; 
111   luck  I   faced   with  dauntless  brow. 

And  scorned  where  now  I  kneel. 
But   why  bewail   my  lot   in  rhymes, 

And   o'er    spilt    water   cry? 
They've  been  and  gone,  those  good  old  times- 

Those  good  old  times  gone  by. 

And  as  the  years  quite  tirelessly 

Speed  onward  while   I  creep, 
I've  ev'ry   reason   to  believe 

They'll   .steal   my   fitful   sleep; 
But    I'll    forgive   such   petty   crimes. 

If,  as   I   wakeful  lie, 
I  can  recall  those  good  old  times — 

Those   good  old  times  gone  by. 

[  65  ] 


riHiil 


^1  • 


THE  SEASONS. 

In    high   latitude. 

When  wintry  winds  around  us  blow 

Their  chill  and  icy  blast; 
When  earth  is  buried  deep  in  snow, 

And  aii'innn's  charms  are  past; 
'Tis  then  the  joys,  that  most  we  prize. 

Like  summer  birds  take  wing; 
'Tis  then,  with  vaguely  longing  hearts, 

We  sigh  for  smiling  spring. 

Spring  comes !  and  ev'ry  glowing  breast. 

Responsive  to  its  power, 
With  health  and  hope,  twice  doubly  blest. 

New  blossoms  with  the  flower. 
The  earth,  aroused  from  wintry  lair, 

Bedecks  itself  in  green, 
And,  glad  to  find  its  form  so  fair, 

Smiles    forth — a    perfect    scene. 

But  that  bright  orb,  in  whom  sweet  May 

Put  all  her  early  trust. 
Now  stronger  grown,  with  heated  ray 

Lays  May  beneath  the  du.st 
While  hill  and  dale,  no  longer  green, 

But  yellow — stubbled— dry. 
Can  ill  repress  their  envy  keen 

Of  summer's  pljicid  sky. 

At  last,  among  the  tinted  trees. 

With  wild  and  wailing  sound. 
The  wind  once  more  strips  branches  bare, 

And  strews  their  leaves  around; 
The  day  again  grows  short  and  cool. 

And  night— its  destined  bier— 
Now  lingers  long  with  misty  shroud. 

To  clasp  the  dying  year. 
[66  ] 


IN  MEMORIAM  SIR  MATTHEW  BEGBIE 

The  firtt   Chief   Justice  of   British   Columbia,   who  died   much 
lamented,  at  Victoria,  B.  C,  June  12th,  1894. 

Now  weep,  Columbia,  you  have  cause  to  mourn ; 
When  he,  who  late  administered  your  laws, 
Nor  meted  justice  for  the  crowd's  applause ; 

Rude  from  your  courts,  despite  your  tears,  is  torn. 

His  was  a  life  of  blamttcss  truth  and  toil ; 

Tempered  with  mercy  in  the  cause  of  right; 

Rearing  your  province  to  its  present  might. 
From  out  a  state  of  chaos  and  turmoil. 

Had  he  been  lenient — had  his  hope  grown  cool ; 

When  order  seemed  subservient  to  gold ; 

Then  lawless  men  unused  to  be  controlled, 
Would  have  held  sway  and  let  King  Riot  rule. 

But  no !    Unswerving  from  his  purpose  firm ; 
He  lived  to  see,  resultant  from  his  care, 
Peace  reigning  proudly  o'er  a  province  fair; 

And  grateful  thousands  bless  his  guardian  arm. 

Weep  now,  Columbia,  and  in  sorrow  pray. 
That  Justice  always  o'er  thy  giant  land, 
May  never  want  a  champion  who  will  stand 

Faithful   as  Begbie,  who  has   passed   away. 


KEEP  CLIMBING. 

Keep  climbing!    keep  climbing  Life's  boulder  strewn 

height. 
Each  early  seen  pinnacle  ever  in  sight ; 
Though  obstacles  hinder,  keep  plodding  along: 
With  "higher,  up  higher"  forever  your  song. 


[  67  ] 


!        .• 


Keep  climbing!  keep  climbing!  be  never  cast  down 
Though  men  who  seem  higher  in  scorn fuhiess  frown , 
Take  courage,  nor  falter.    Look  forward— not  back— 
Their  methods  but  prove  them  upon  the  wrong  track 

Keep    climbing!    keep   climbing!    though    weary   and 

faint ; 
Keep  upward  and  onward  without  a  complaint ; 
Though  friends  from  the  pathway  in  idleness  stray, 
Your  motto  and  duty  is  "Climb  while  you  may." 

Keep  climbing !  keep  climbing !  nor  oflfer  to  stand, 
Or  rest  in  the  shadow  of  what  you  have  planned ; 
The  way  may  be  rugged,  the  mountain  be  steep, 
But  once  on  the  summit  you  safely  may  sleep. 

Keep    climbing!    keep    climbing!    make   each    move- 
ment tell, 
A  thing  that's  worth  doing  is  worth  doing  well; 
The  goal  is  above  you,  defeat  is  below, 
Keep  climbing!  keep  climbing!  to  victory  go. 

LIFE  IS  LIKE  A  GAME  OF  CHECKERS. 

The   name  "checkers"   is  a   synonym   for   "draughts"   in   many 
parts   of   America. 

Play  life's  game  as  men  play  checkers: 

Watchful  always  of  your  chance; 
Do  not  trust  your  all  to  wreckers 

To  obtain  some  quick  advance. 
No  move  ever  should  be  taken 

Till  the  next  is  out  of  doubt; 
Slight  success  to  shame  may  beckon; 

Petty  loss  may  win  the  bout. 


f  68  ] 


Courtesy  disarms  suspicion  ; — 

But  be  careful  of  its  wile; 
Hazard  nothing  on  condition 

Of  your  foe's  continued  smile : 
Only  one  can  win  the  guerdon ; 

Victory    follows    surest   play ; 
Trust  no  friend  to  hear  your  burden : 

Help  yourself  or  lose  the  day. 

Yes,   Life's  but  a  game  of  checkers: 

Make  no  move  you  can't  protect ; 
When  a  ship  is  in  the  breakers, 

Wreck   and  ruin   wait   neglect. 
Courtesy   may  lull   suspicion 

With  its  treacherous  disguise ; 
But  before  you  yield   position : — 

Does  position   mean  the   prize? 

THE  OVERSOUL. 

(Verses   written    after    reading,    with   great    pleasure,    the    Essay 
on  the  Oversoul,  by  Emerson). 

What   a  pleasure  there's  in  knowing 
I'm  a  part  of  God's  great  plan; 

What  a  priv'lege  then  in  doing 
All  for  Him  I  truly  can. 

What  a  balm  there's  in  the  knowledge 

That  what  I  sincerely  do, 
Is  His  Spirit  working  in  me. 

And,  confined,  comes  bursting  through. 

Just  to  think  that  through  each  action 
Born  of  this — my  warring  frame, 

He,  the  great  undimmed  attraction, 
Speaks,  my  brothers  to  reclaim. 


[  69  ] 


Miaocomr  rlxhution  test  chart 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


A    APPLIED  IN/MGE 


'653   East   Main   Street 

rtochester.   Ne»  York        14609       USA 

(716)   482  -0300 -Phone 

(716)    288  -  5989  -  Fax 


'ir       i 


That  same  God  I  see  in  mountains, 
In  the  plains  and  mighty  sea, 

In  great  rivers,  'mbbling  fountains. 
In   the  flowers,— is   seen   in  me. 

When  grim  Passion  tears  my  vitals, 

And  I  fight  it  to  the  death; 
'Tis  not  me,  but  God  that  conquers. 

Me  it  was  that  gave  up  breath. 

And  whene'er  I  work  in  earnest. 
And  my  deeds  with  glory  shine, 

Thou,  Most  High,  my  power  adornest ; 
With  Thy  help  I'm  made  divine. 

Give  me  then,  oh  Great  Creator, 
Greater  power  with  flesh  to  cope; 

Let  me  tear  aside  its  hindrance, 
To  give  Thee  more  light,  more  scope. 

Wondrous  theme.  Great  Soul  of  Nature, 
In  Thy  praise  I'm  filled  with  song; 

I,  a  mortal  wayward  creature, 
Still  to  Thee,  in  Thee  belong. 

INTOLERATION. 

What  makes  men  contemn  the  poor  negro's  black  face, 

And  hold  Indians  in  detestation; 
What  makes  them  think  Mongols  quite  foreign  to  grace  ? 

It's  racial  intoleration. 

What  first  causes  strife— then  develops  to  war, 

What  scatters  abroad  desolation; 
What  robs  our  exchequers  of  treasure  in  store? 

It's  national  intoleration. 


[70] 


Why  do  men  of  party  so  arrogant  grow, 

When   theirs  is   the  administration ; 
What  makes  them  despise  their  opponents,  and  blow? 

Political  intoleration. 

Why  are  we  divided  in  classes  and  caste, 
According  to  wealth,  birth  or  station; 

And  why  do  the  higher,  inferiors  detest? 
Positional  intoleration. 

Why  do  temp'rance  advocates  cause  so  much  harm, 

Instead  of  their  kind's  elevation; 
What  steals  from  their  efforts  the  pleasure  and  charm? 

Fanatical  intoleration. 

Why  are  there  so  many  agnostics  abroad, 

Who  fain  would  profess  adoration ; 
But  scarcely  know   how — so  beclouded  is  God? 

It's  bigoted  intoleration. 

Ah  friends,  'tis  a  shameful,  a  lasting  disgrace, 

A  slur  on  our  civilization. 
To  think  that  in  life's  short  and  uncertain  race 

We  find  time  for  intoleration. 

If  "do  unto  others  as  we'ld  be  done  by" 
Were  really  the  world's    inspiration; 

How  quickly  it  would  from  intolerance  fly 
To  practice  divine  toleration. 


[  71  J 


f       ,         '!a 


MOORE,   BYRON  AND  SCOTT. 

When  an  Irishman's  dull,  enervated  and  sad; 

When  his  heart  calls  for  sympathy  dear; 
When  far  from  his  country  he  wanders  abroad 

On  a  soil  that  is  foreign  and  drear ; 
Whose  strains  can  recall  to  his  memory,  home. 

And  induce  him  his  lot  to  endure. 
And  do  honor  to  Ireland  where'er  he  may  roam, 

L'ke  the  soul-stirring  lyrics  of  Moore? 

When  an  Englishman,  proud  of  the  land  of  his  birth, 

So  conceitedly  to  it  refers. 
And  receives  a  reproach  for  the  marvelous  dearth 

Of  the  singers  whom  true  passion  stirs ; 
Just  notice  the  light  that  comes  into  his  eye, 

And  illumines  his  features  of  iron. 
As  he  says  with  accents  that  reason  defy: — 

"You've   forgotten  our  passionate  Byron." 

When  a  Scotchman— the  task  of  his  day  being  done 

Wants  a  moment  of  bliss  less  alloy; 
And  has  laid  aside  Burns  "Coila's  own  darling  son," 

For  diversion  and  spice  in  his  joy; 
Whose  pages  are  full  of  the  patriot's  song,— 

Of  the  battles  that  Scotchmen  have  fought? 
To  whose  minstrel  raptures  does  genius  belong. 

If  not  to  the  raptures  of  Scott. 

To  the  same  decade's  brilliance  the  world  owes  a  debt, 

'Twill  take  decades  of  decades  to  pay; 
For  posterity  sure  will  be  loth  to  forget 

The  loved  names  introduced  in  this  lay. 
Three  friends  and  three  poets,  all  equal  in  fame — 

Though  of  different  races  begot; 
Whose  genius  all  nations  now  proudly  proclaim. 

And  thank  God  for  Moore,  Byron  and  Scott. 

[  72] 


H 


WASHINGTON'S   BIRTHDAY. 

Washington's  birthday!     Hark,  hark  to  the  sound 

Of  joy  universal  and  glee; 
Washington's  birthday!    Still  \zt  it  resound, 

With  praises  and  proud  jubilee; 
Washington's  birthday!    Oh  why  are  we  thrilled? 

Oh  why  do  we  hallow  the  name? 
Because  since  that  day  our  hearts  have  been  filled 

With  that  which  puts  tyrants  to  shame. 

Washington's  birthday!    What  funds  of  delight 

Those  words  have  power  to  recall ; 
The  champion  of  freedom,  of  justice  and  right 

Then  came  our  hearts  to  enthrall. 
Sing  loudly,  ye  patriots,  shout  out  your  'oy, 

Commemorate  liberty's  birth ; 
Let  cheers  of  rejoicing — with  nought  to  alloy — 

Awake  and  encompass  the  earth. 

May  the  star-spangled  banner  he  nurtured  so  well 

Still  wave  o'er  a  land  for  the  free; 
May  tiie  vii  tues  he  practised  through  our  actions  tell 

That  virtue  is  freedom's  best  plea ; 
May  Columbia's  strand  which  he  loved  and  revered. 

Still  echo  with  song  and  applause 
For  the  hero,  who,  father  of  all  tha;  he  reared. 

Gave  us  freedom  and  country  and  laws. 


[73  ] 


.te 


WHF>'  WE'RE  DEAD  AND  GONE. 

(At  the  time  t.  ^  jingle  was  written  aeroplanes  were  unknown, 
and  the  author  prophesied  wiser  than  he  knew  when  he  wrr*e 
the  last    rerse.) 

Wondrous  things  may  come  to  pass, 

When  we're  dead  and  gone. 
Nothing  ancient  can  surpass, 

When  we're  dead  and  gone; 
Stars  in  heaven   may  collide, 
And  the  sun   with  rapid  stride 
May  o'ertake  the  moon,  his  bride. 

When  we're  dead  and  gone. 

Gravitation's    law   may  burst, 
iWhen  we're  dead  and  gone. 
Which  of  mishaps  is  the  worst, 

When  we're  dead  and  gone. 
Mortals  from  this  world  would  fall. 
Into  night  and  chaos  sprawl, 
Where  grim  darkness  would  appal, 

When  we're  dead  and  gone. 

Earth  its  bowels  may  unfold. 

When  we're  dead  and  gone, 
And  yield  treasures  yet  u;:told, 

When  we're  dead  and  gone; 
With  eruptions  mounts  may  quake, 
Rivers  o'er  their  banks  may  break, 
Oceans   may   their   beds    forsake. 

When  we're  dead  and  gone. 

Men  through  earth  may  make  a  breach. 

When  we're  dead  and  gone. 
The  Antipodes  to  reach, 

When  we're  dead  and  gone: 


[  74] 


They  in  railway  cars  may  roll 
Underground  from  pole  to  pole, 
Paying  but  a  trifling  toll, 
When  we're  dead  and  gone. 

Th'electric  source  for  having  found, 

When  we're  dead  and  gone. 
Inventors  great  may  be  renowned. 

When  we're  dead  and  gone; 

And   through  its   improved   ray. 

Night  may  chase  its  shades  away. 

And  they'll  live  in  endless  day. 

When  we're  dead  and  gone. 

P'rhaps  we  may  not  need  our  wings. 

When  we're  dead  and  gone; 
Or  such  like  ethereal  things. 
When  we're  dead  and  gone. 
Golden  stairs  to  heaven  may   rise. 
Not  in  song  as  you'd  surmise, 
But  which  angels  won't  despise. 
When  we're  dead  and  gone. 

People  in  machines  may  fly, 

When  we're  dead  and  gone; 
Scaling  heights  of  azure  sky. 
When  we're  dead  and  gone. 
O'er  the  clouds  they'll  ride  supreme, 
And  what  now  does  monstrous  seem, 
May  have  faded  to  a  dream, 
When  we're  dead  and  gone. 


[  75  ] 


t    •;' 


THE  ROSCOE  CLUB. 

When  the  author  was  about  19  years  of  age.  three  of  his 
most  intimate  Canadian  friends  formed  with  him  the  nucleus  of 
a  literary  society.  Chancing  on  their  second  or  third  evening 
to  become  interested  in  Washington  Irving's  sketch  book,  attention 
was  fixed  on  his  delightful  little  notice  of  Wm.  Roscoe.  Liver- 
pool s  literary  star.  The  high  character  and  attainments  of  that 
gentleman,  as  eulogized  by  Irving,  seemed  almost  the  personifi- 
cation of  the  avowed  objects  of  the  little  circle,  and  the  company 
forthwith  dubbed  itself  the   Roscoe   Club,  in  honor  of  him. 

On  each  happy  Tuesday  night, 

When  the  moon  is  shining  bright. 
And  the  stars  within  the  firmament  do  glow; 

We  convene  the  favored  four. 

And   with   literary   lore. 
We  begtiile  the  hours  away  in  Club  Roscoe. 

Though  the  rain  in  torrent  falls. 
And  the  lightning's  flash   appals; 

Thotigh  old  Boreas  a  hurricane  doth  blow; 
Still  we  gather  'round  the  board. 
On  which  choicest  books   are   stored. 

And  we  spend  the  evening  in  our  Club  Roscoe. 

When  the  leaves  all  turning  red. 

And  the  ripened  fruit  o'erhead, 
Both  proclaim  that  Autumn's  bliss  we  soon  shall  know ; 

Though  our  friends  stroll  up  the  road,— 

Arm  in  arm  quite  d  !a  mode— 
We're  content  to  pass  our  time  in  Club  Roscoe. 

When  the  nights  grow  cold  and  long. 

And  the  winds  blow  fierce  and  strong. 
And  the  ground  is  hard  and  crisp  with  ice  and  snow ; 

We  draw  near  the  glowing  grate, 

And  with  heart    ind  voice  elate. 
We  discuss  the  future  of  our  Club  Rosco  . 


[  76] 


When  the  Spring  in  garments  green 
Changes  fast  the  wintry  scene. 

And  to  ev'ry  living  thing  its  gifts  bestow: 
With  new  life  and  vigor  filled, 
And    as   critics    better   skilled, 

Are  the  members  of  that  dear  old  Club  Roscoe. 

Though   its    roll   contains   but    few, 

Yet  each  heart  is  stout  and  true, 
Which  in  after  years  the  world  will  surely  know ; 

And  if  time  works  all  things  well, 

As  a  prophet  I  foretell,— 
Famous  far  will  be  our  little  Club  Roscoe. 


A  COMPOSITION. 


Roscoe  Club,  the  origin  and  objects  of  which  have  just  been 
mentmned.  on  one  occasion  in  the  year  1888  demanded  essays 
from  Its  members  upon  the  various  phases  of  government  in 
vogue  rlurmg  tlje  present  age.  The  Czar  or  absolute  monarchy  was 
the  particular  kind  that  fell  to  the  author's  lot.  In  the  absence 
of  any  stat.stici.]  knowledge  upon  the  subject,  this  "Composition." 
which  IS  self-explanatory,  was  utilized  to  fill  up  the  gap. 

Dear  friends,  'twas  my  duty  to  write  out  to-nigljt. 
An  essay  of  length  on  the  Czar  and  his  might ; 
And  had  I  had  power  to  do  what  I  ought, 
An  essay  no  doubt  I  to  you  would  have  brought ; 
But  the  subject  you  see  had  so  much  in  its  train, 
All  my  efforts  to  grasp  it.  I  found  were  in  vain  ; 
So  you'll  please  be  content  if  what  little  I  tell, 
Vou  have  known  long  ago  perhaps  perfectly  well  • 
And  as  men  have  classed  all  "stale  chestnuts"  with  crime 
To  make  it  seem  new,  I  will  tell  it  in  rhyme. 

The  Czar,  we  are  told  in  the  books  used  at  school, 
is  a  monarch  who  governs  with  absolute  rule; 
Not  like  our  good  queen  at  the  beck  and  the  call 
Of  a  Gladstone,  a  Churchil 


Bright  or  a  Sal. 


[  V  ] 


1 

* 

But  a  king  at  whose  bidding  men  die  at  the  stake; 
One  word  from  whose  lips  can  make  all  Europe  quake 
He  has  but  to  look,  and  faint  hearts  cease  to  beat ; 
He  wills,  and    ill  Russia  must  cringe  at  his  feet ; 
For  justice  his  subjects  appeal  to  the  throne. 
It  rests  on  his  word  and  his  judgment  alone. 

But  despite  all  his  power,  deny  it  who  can, 

This  tyrant  of  millions  is  only  a  man ; 

And  as  such,  you    'oubtless  have  seen  in  the  papers. 

How  much  he's  harassed  by  those  nihi'=3t  capers; 

And  although  Fortune's  child,  he  is  in  constant  d;ead. 

Lest  the  momenf   deprive  him  of  sceptre  and  head. 

With  thi;,  my  dear  friends,  I'm  afraid  I  must  end,— 

No  more  to  my  verse  has  my  knowledge  to  lend; 

But  mayhap  if  ever  I  travel  to  Moscow, 

I'll  look  up  the  Czar  ^'or  the  good  of  ihe  Roscoe. 

♦Salisbury. 

BOSKY  DELL. 

While  bending  o'er  my  daily  toil, 

Oppressed  by  city  heat; 
And  breathing  in  the  dusty  soil 

Arising  from  the  street; 

Though  be.  -ng  with  resigned   fate 

The  noise  of  city  life; 
^n  truth,   at  times,   I'd   fain   vacate 

lis  bustle  and  its  strife. 


Before  -.ny  eye  bright  visions  pass 
Of  fields  and  meadows  green. 

Of  yellow  corn  and  waving  grass, 
And  humble  rustic  scene; 


[  78  ] 


Till  thoughts  of  brooks  and  shady  nooks 

Soon  o'er  me  cast  a  spdl, 
And  I   recall  the  beauties    jil, 

Of  dear  old  Bosky  Dell. 

There  stands  the  cottage,  small  and  trim, 
Beside  a  lordly  pine, 

That  stretches  o'er  the  roof  a  limb- 
Protection's  surest  sign. 

Its  walls  i.re  decked  with  ivy  green; 

And    roses    sweet    to   smell, 
Within  the  da.':   rich    foliage 

Luxuriantly   dwell. 

A  purling  brook  some  yards  away, 
O'er  rocks  glides  rippling  on; 

And  sings  its  sad  incessant  lay 
From  break  of  dawn  to  dawn. 

No  jarrine  noise  the  silence  cleaves; 

All  sounds  are  hushed  and  still ; 
The  sighing  wind,  the  rustling  leaves, 

The  music  of  the  rill. 

Save  that  at  times  fro  -  leafy  bower. 
High  up  some  neighb'ring  tree, 

The  birds  such  floods  of  music  shower, 
The  grove  is  drenched  with  glee. 

Or  when   from  distant  meadow  land, 

Some  petted  lambkin':   bleat 
Is  heard  as  'round  its  sober  dam 

It  skips  wuh  tireless  feet. 


[  7Q  ] 


Some  sweet  breathed  kirie,  'iicath  friendly  shadr. 

In   lazy   languor    lie, 
With  munching  mouth,  and  shaking  head, 

And  dreamy  half-shut  eye. 

But  as  this  scene  before  me  lies 

In  panoramic   view, 
Faint  twinkling  vapors  slow  arise, 

And  twilight  does  ensue. 

Then  O!  to  see  the  grandeur  now 

That   spreads   itself  around: 
The  moon  from  o'er  a  mountain  brow 

With  silver  tints  the  ground; 

The  stars  within  her  train  appear, 

And  soon  the   ,'ault  of  night 
Is  sprinkled  o'er  with  jewels  clear 

And   diamonds  sparkling  bright. 

A  still  and  awful  silence  takes 

Possession  of  the  air; 
fill  trees,  and  fields,  and  birds     .am  all 

In   Nature's   solemn   c,  re. 


.    -I 


O !  fain  I  would  some  more  relate 
Upon   this   pleasing    theme, 

But  here  I  woke,  and  to  my  fate, 
Found  Bosky  Dell  a  dream. 


I    ■*   ■   'I 


[  80] 


! 


( 


ODE  TO    \   SKULL. 

Kvery  poet  has  patron*.  The  first  person  to  patronize  and 
raonrage  the  huyish  efforts  of  the  author  in  the  art  of  rhyming 
was  .Mr.  J.  U.  Forbes,  at  that  time  of  Montreal,  hut  -low  a 
rrsiileiit  of  I't.  Levi,  Qxiv.  This  Keiitli-man  was  a  pas.>ionate 
.iilniirer  of  poetry,  and  could  ipiote  pai«sages  from  fturns. 
Byron  or  Shakespeare  hy  the  hour.  Seeing  some  of  the  author's 
earliest  elftisions  \>y  chance  one  day,  instead  of  hni.lmg  them  up 
to  the  ridicide  that  he  shamefacedly  expected.  Mi  ,  urbes,  imme- 
diately took  an  interest  in  his  scribblinus,  praised  them  up  sky 
high,  and  as  a  teSi  of  the  author's  powers  proposed  that  he 
imagine  himself  in  a  grave-yard  with  a  xkull  that  he  had  picked 
up  from  curiosity  in  his  hand.  Th  train  of  thought  to  which 
such  an  incident  happened  to  give  he  desired  him  to  put  in 

rhyme,  and,  being  his  employer,  as  an  .ncentive  he  kindly  allowed 
what  spare  time  he  could  afford  during  the  remainder  of  the  day 
for  that  purpose.  Graieful  for  the  well-meant  f.attery,  and 
anxious  to  keep  up  his  new  reputation,  by  nightfall  the  author 
managed  to  have  this  concoction  ready  for  his  employer's  amused 
perusal.  It  hat  several  very  palpable  faults,  but  the  author  thinks 
the  public  may  be  interested  in  it  aa  a  production  of  his  1 6th  year. 

Alas!  Alas!  how  sad  I  feel 

When  on  this  skull  I  gaze ; 
For  'neath  it"^  shell  a  something  real 

Did  dwell  in   brighter  days, 
And  thought  or  dreamed  of  future  life 

Upon    this    world    of    sorrow, 
And  battled  with  its  sins  and  strife, 

In  hopes  of  peace  to-morrow. 

Perhaps  ambition   fdled  each   vein 

Which  through  this  brain  did  flow, 
And  helped  great  schemes  of  future  gain 

To  start,  and  then  to  grow ; 
Maybe  the  wisest   plans  e'er  made 

Took   root   within   this   head. 
And  would  have  been  before  us  laid, 

Had  death  not  come  instead. 


I 


[81  ] 


J:  I 


t     ■' 


Perhaps  this  may  have  been  the  skull 

Of    someone    of    renown, 
Whose  works  of  genius  now  are  know  • 

To   Earth's   remotest  town; 
Or  p'raps  some  conscience-striclcen  wretch 

Could  have  no  solace  here, 
And  so  mid  suicidal  itch 

Did  end  his  life  in  fear. 

Perhaps,  again,  this  once  has  been 

The  head  of  some  great  wit. 
Whose  faculties  were  ever  keen 

To  make  some  happy  hit. 
Or  was  some  idiotic  mind 

Once  hid  beneath  this  shell. 
That  to  good  sense  was  ever  blind, 

Whatever  else  befell? 

Perhaps  some  farmer  might  this  claim, 

If  he  were  now  on  earth. 
Whose  easy-going,  honest  aim, 

If  known,  might  prove  of  worth; 
Or,  may  be,  it  did  once  belong 

To  some  unlucky  devil, 
Who  barely  knew  'twixt  right  and  wrong, 

But  died  mid  maddest  revel. 

Perhaps  some  sailor  brave  and  bold. 

With  jolly   looks,  and   gay, 
Might  once  beneath  this  head  have  rolled 

Across  the  watery  way ; 
Or  p'raps  some  soldier  fighting  hard. 

Away  from  home  and  land, 
Had  this  from  off  his  shoulders  struck 

By    some   combatant's   hand. 


,s      .,» 


[82] 


Perhaps  it  once  encovered  one 

Who,  struggling  for  his  right, 
Was  killed  before  his  work  was  done 

By  main  or  money  might; 
Perhaps  some  coward  base  and  mean 

(For  all  are  base  who  cower) 
Might  claim  this  cranium  for  his  own, 

If  heav'n  would  give  him  power. 

Maybe  an  honest  pauper 

Did  use  this  empty  head. 
In  pondering  how,  and  when,  and  where. 

He'd  get  a  crust  of  bread. 
Or  p'raps  it  once  was  held  erect 

By  some  vain,  haughty  man. 
Who  cared  not  whom  he  crushed  direct 

Beneath   his   selfish  ban. 

In  fact,  with  truth  'twere  hard  to  guess 

To  whom  this  skull  belonged; 
But  then,  for  that  I  care  not  less, 

Nor  would  I  see  it  wronged. 
The  chances  are  it  once  did  crown 

Some  worthy,  manly  frame. 
Who  cared  not  for  a  world's  renown 

While  he  had  his  good  name. 


MOTHER. 

Written  in   the  author's   17th  year  in   honor  of  one   who   had 
been  called  away  three  years  after  his  birth. 

Dearest  mother,   whither  art   thou? 

Why  have  I  been  left  alone? 
Why  by  thee  was  I  forsaken, 

Ere  thy  worth  was  barely  known? 


[  83  ] 


_| 


if  !■£ 


-1 


I  ,.  ^t 


Mother— darling,  angel   mother! 

Can  I  never  see  you  more? 
Have  you  gone  from  me  forever, 

To  that  dark  eternal  shore? 

Will  you  not  at  my  entreaty 
Once  again  to  earth  return? 

Why,  oh  why,  I  pray  thee,  mother. 
Am  I  left  thy  loss  to  mourn? 

How  I've  longed  to  have  your  guidance, 

None  but  God  above  can  tell; 
Just  one  look  of  kindness   from  you, 
i   Just  to  know  you  wish  me  well. 

When  with  grief  and  sorrow  stricken, 
Then  oh  how  I've  yearned  for  thee  !* 

That   I  might  confide  my  troubles 
And   receive  your   sympathy. 

And  to  think,  I  don't  remember 
Even  how  you  used  to  smile. 

Or  how  you  with  love  maternal 
Did  my  baby  hours  beguile. 

Mother— dearest,    darling    mother! 

How   thy  name  alone  can  thrill! 
Oh,  that  some  divine  inspirer, 

Would  unfold  to  me  thy  will. 

TO  THEE,  OH  GOD! 

(A    Prayer) 

To  Thee,  oh  God!  in  my  despair 
I  pen  this  earnest  heart-made  prayer 

In  hopes  that  Thou,  who  art  divine, 
Wilt  cleanse  my  soul  and  make  it  thine. 
[  84  1 


I 


I  know  I  am  not  worth  Thy  thought, 
My  very  frame  with  sin  is  fraught : 

But  still,  because  Thy  work  I  am. 
For  self-made  wounds  provide  a  balm. 

Give  me  a  salve  that  sure  will  heal 
My  broken   spirit  and   my  will. 

To  Passion,  God,  I  am  a  slave; 
A  shield   from   it  I   fairly  crave. 

Thou  know'st  my  weakness  and  canst  see 
The  cure  Thou  shouldst  prescribe  for  me. 

To  curb  myself  in  vain  I've  tried, — 
My  loathed   desire  won't   be  denied. 

So  now  to  Thee  I  humbly  kneel, 

And  pen  the  words  Thou  know'st  I  feel. 

In  pity,  God,  look  down  and  be 
A  comforter  and  strength  to  me. 

Help  me  once  more  to  raise  my  head 
In  triumph  o'er  my  passions  dead. 

And  then,  oh  God,  through  all  my  days, 
My  very  life  shall  sing  thy  praise. 


A  PRAYER. 

Thy  greatness,  God,  I  cannot  know, 

I  cannot  guess  Thy  powers; 
But  ev'ry  earnest  thought  must  show 
How  I  revere  Thy  works  below 
Upon  this  world  of  ours. 

r  85  ] 


If  all  omnipotent  Thou  art, 

As  Nature  seems  to  say; 
Oh,  put  the  truth  into  my  heart, 
And  let  me  know  I  am  a  part 

Worth  more  to  Thee  than  clay. 

And  if,  oh  God,  Thou  art  supreme, 

And  rulest  all  that's  here; 
May  I  be  taught  to  do,  not  dream, 
Pray  make  me  ever  what  I  seem. 
And  keep  my  soul  sincere. 

Amen. 


MISERY. 

Blow  on,  ye  northern  winds,  blow  on, 
Let  nothing  cause  your  rage  to  stay; 

If  mortals  totter  and  look  wan. 
What  matters  it?— they  are  but  clay. 

Make  fiercer  still  your  icy  blast 
In  fury  though  it  never  end; 

An  angry  sky  with  black  o'ercast 
To  mis'ry  not  a  jot  can  lend. 

Shine  on,  in  mock'ry,  Sun,  shine  on. 
Your  blazing  heat  around  us  spread; 

From  darkest  night  bring  forth  the  dawn, 
Or  raise  to  life  the  winter's  dead. 

Though  mighty  forests  you  may  burn ; 

Or  cause  deep  rivers  to  run  dry: 
If  mortals  but  in  sorrow  mourn. 

Despite  thy  power  they'll  weep  or— die. 


[86] 


A  SONG  FOR  APPRENTICE  ACCOUNTANTS. 

If  you  would  accounting  achieve— 

Keep  books  sans  reproach,  flaw  or  doubt 
You  must  debit  whate'er  you  recei^/e, 

And   credit  whatever  goes  out. 
Perchance  it  is  "goods"  that  goes  out, 

And  Smith,  Brown  or  Jones  that  comes  in; 
But  see  that  you  change  things  about 

If  "goods"  and  not  "custom"  you  win. 

Since  to  share  in  a  bookkeeper's  sweets- 
To  shun  a  bad  bookkeeper's  woe: 

You  must  debit  your  daily  receipts 
And  credit  with  care  your  outgo. 

When  it's  "goods"  or  "--ash"  you  obtain. 

Charge  up  such  accounts  what  you  get; 
While  if  these  go  out,  it  is  plain, 

You  charge  who  gets  into  your  debt. 
For  whatever  comes  in  you  receive, 

Though  perhaps  it's  a  debtor's  account; 
And  whatever  goes  out— pray  believe— 

Has  a  credit  somewhere  that  amount. 

So  to  shun  a  bad  bookkeeper's  woe— 
To  share  a  good  bookkeeper's  sweets; 

You  must  credit  with  care  your  outgo, 
And  debit  your  daily  receipts. 

But  if  into  debt  you  should  go: 

For  his  trust  you  must  credit  your  friend; 
And  when  you  pay  up  what  you  owe; 

Credit  "cash"  with  all  money  you  spend; 
That  is:   he  who  pays  you  the  gold. 

Or  gives  you  the  goods  on  account, 
Should   be   credited   what    he   has   sold 

Or  has  paid  to  the  total  amount. 

[  87  ] 


1 


1 


For  remember,  though  life  has  its  sweets 
They're  embittered  with  chagrin  and  woe, 

Till  you  debit  your  daily  receipts, 
And  credit  with  care  your  outgo. 

A  SPEECH. 

Supposed  to  be  made  at  the  opening  of  Lindsay  Collegiate 
Institute,  January  2Sth,  1889.  It  was  published  at  the  time  in 
the  Lindsay  "Victoria  Warder,"  a  local  newspaper,  and  in  that 
way  served  its  purpose. 

I  do  not  wish  with  long  oration, 
And  weighty  tedious  demonstration, 
To  make  you,  by  your  yawns,  betray 
Fatigue,  on  this  our  natal  day; 
Nor  do  I,  with  a  pompous  style. 
Intend  to  cause  an  inward  smile; 
For  by  your  looks  and  silent  nudges, 
I    fear,  alas!   you're  able  judges; 
So,  if  you've  no  applause  to  spare. 
Pray  with  my  feeble  efforts  bear. 
Just  listen,  and  appear  at  ease — 
For  know,  kind  friends,  I  wish  to  please. 

There  was  a  time  in  ages  past 
When  learning  was  a  stigma  cast 
By  people,  on  those  favored  few, 
Wht,  y<;eking  wisdom,  waded  th   jugh 
The  musty  depths  of  learned  lore 
That  sages  wrote  in  books  of  yore; 
But  later  on,  as  time  progressed. 
And  evolution  ne'er  at  rest 
Caused  civ'lization  to  advance. 
And  gave  the  vulgar  crowd  a  chance 
To  taste  the  sweets  in  learning's  train, 
And  showed  the  heights  they  might  attain, 
A  wondious  change  at  length  took  place; 
And  those,  who  once  with  sneering  face 
[  88] 


Had  laughed  to  scorn  the  few  who  tried 
To  pluck  the  fruit  to  fools  denied, 
Became  as  eager  to  devise 
A  means  by  which  they  too  might  rise; 
Content  no  longer  to  be   fools, 
They  built  them  colleges  and  schools 
Wherein  their  oflF-spring  might  be  taught 
The  truths  which  they  themselves  had  not. 

But  still  they  scarce  conceived  their  worth; 

Of  knowledge  yet  there  was  a  dearth. 

Their  colleges  were  far  from  good; 

The  schools  they  built  were  plain  and  rude ; 

They  let  them  fall  into  decay, — 

Nor  raised  a  hand  Time's  rage  to  stay — 

Till  plaster  from  the  ceilings  fell  : 

The  walls  by  cracks  their  age  could  tell ; 

And  windows  wi..(  their  lights  half  gone 

Had  used  up  copies   fastened  on ; 

Displaying  both  the  pupil's  drift 

And  parents'      onomic  thrift; 

And  he  who  failed  to  be  of  use 

In   other  callings  more  abstruse 

Was  straightway  hired  with  task  assigned 

To  rear  and  train  the  youthful  mind. 

Yet  lo!  with  ne'er  despairing  tread 

Still  onward  evolution  sped : 

And  now,  to-day,  with  conscious  pride 

We  point  you  to  its  wondrous  stride; 

An  ample  proof,  this  building  stands. 

The  v/ork  of  well  skilled  artists'  hands; 

No  proven  comfort  does  it  lack, 

A  model  school  from  front  to  back;— 

A  palace  'tis— to  call  it  less 

We  would  the  law  oi  truth  transgress. 


[  89  ] 


tw 


i  I 


Each  class-room  like  a  parlor  made 
Incites  our  youth  to  mount  that  grade— 

(So  rough  and  steep  as  sages  claim) 

Which  leads  to  knowledge  and  to  fame. 

The  school  in  which  w-  now  are  met 
For  building  may  you  ne'er  regret; 
Though  it  has  been  a  heavy  strain, 
And  has  to  many  seemed  a  bane, 
Yet  here  it  stands  a  monument 
Of  all  the  time  and  means  you've  spent. 
Its  pupils  all  and  each  your  debtor 
Confess  they  wish  for  nothing  bect.rr. 

And  now,  proved  frie  .ds  of  education. 
Before  I  close  this  dedication: 
For  all  your  previous  thoughtful  aid 
To  make  this  building  as  'f-s  made; 
And  also  here  I  beg  to  mention 
For  present  patient,  kind  attention. 
Accept  my  thanks,  and  those  to  boot 
Of  Lindsay  Collegiate  Institute. 


I        1' 


HOW    JOHN    TOD     CONQUERED    THE     SHU- 

SHWAPS. 

A  true  tale  of  British  Columbia. 

John  Tod  was  a  furtrader  fearless  and  bold, 

As   furtraders  always  should  be; 
But  of  all  brave  furtraders  of  whom  we  p.re  told, 

The  bravest  and  boldest  was  he. 
In  years  long  gone  by,  John  had  lived  in  the  East ; 

And  from  that  far  clime  had  he  come, 
Over  billow  and  prairie,  on  boat  and  on  beast. 

To  make  new  Columbia  his  home. 


[90] 


s 


I 

I 


He  came  from  the  East  to  the  wild,  woolly  West; 

When  its  mountainous  wastes  wei  -  untrod; 
That  he  might  with  adventure  lend  life  a  new  zest, 

And  roam  oer  the  unbroken  sod. 
And  there  in  a  fori  on  a  well-chosen  site. 

Where  the  Thompson  and  Frazer  combined;* 
John's  fame  spread  abroad,  among  Indian  and  white, 

As  a  giant  in  body  and  mind. 

For  John  was  no  pigmy.     Six  feet  from  the  earth 
His  head  sat  in  archest  content, 

O'er  a  pair  of  broad  shoulders  of  such  solid  worth 
They  looked  as  though  rough-hewn   from  flint. 

His  body  was  lanky,  and  gaunt  was  his  cheek- 
He  was  no  Apollo,  'tis  true; 

Bdt  a  stronger  or  lither  in  vain  might  you  seek : 
John   Tod  found   his  equa'  'n    few. 

Now  about  Thompson  post  lived  six  nations  of  braves. 

And  no  carpet  warriors  were  they; 
From  the  Coast  to  the  Rockies  were  hundreds  of  graves 

Where  silent  their  enemies  lay. 
The  Shushwaps  were  terror?  to  white  man  and  red ; 

No  coward  dared  halt  in  their  path ; 
But  look  at  them  crossways  and  hungry  for  blood. 

The  Shushwaps  would  rise  in  their  wrath. 

But  Tod  was  a  trader,  and  though  hemmed  around. 

With  but  four  fellow  whites  at  his  side; 
What   cared    he    for   Shushwaps?     He'd    hold   to   his 
ground. 

And  would  knuckle  to  none  though  he  died. 
So  there  in  their  midst  he  gave  trinkets  for  furs ; 

And  settled  disputes  as  he  chose; 
As  king  of  the  forest  he  soon  won  his  spurs ; 

And  respect,  bocli  from  friends  and  from  foes. 

•Now  the  town  of  Kamloops,  B.  C. 

[  91  ] 


]W 

*  >  '  ■ 

^  ■        t 

» 

* 

But  it  happened  at  last  that  the  Shushwaps  grew  tired 

At  his  bold  usurpation  of  power: 
This  Tod  must  be  crushed  and  his  countrymen  hushed. 

Though  the  hravens  above  them  should  lower. 
So  they  plan  and  they  plot  and  they  scheme  and  they 
threat 

Till  at  length  comes  an  opportune  chance; 
They  will  murder  the  band  when  'vith  packtrain  in  hand, 

No  strong  guarded   fort  give^    defense. 


Through  the  region  around  goes  the  message  of  war 

On  Tod  and  his  chivalrous  four; 
And  savage,  gather  from  near  and  from  far, 

To  dip  thtir  hands  deep  in  his  gore. 
But  little  t'aey  know  of  the  men  they  oppose, 

In  their  savage  desire  for  their  blood 
They  wist  not  the  wiles  of  their  civilized  foes,— 

And  for  once  lack  of  knowledge  proved  good. 

At  a  small  level  plain  on  the  banks  of  the  stream. 

Surrounded  by  brushwood  and  trees; 
rhey  gather  in  ambush  to  perfect  their  scheme. 

And  wait  for  the  prey  at  their  ease. 
To  wait  for  the  prey  that  they  think  is  their  own; 

For  how  can  they  miss  such  a  prize? 
Their  number  is  scores  to  their  enemies'  one : — 

This  day,  sure,  the  furtrader  dies. 

But  Tod  was  as  wary  and  wily  as  brave ; 

His  years  at  the  front  were  not  lost ; 
There  were  lives  in  his  keeping  no  hazard  could  save, 

If  in  danger  he  heedlessly  tost. 
So  warned  of  the  hundreds  who  ambush  his  way 

And  knowing  retreat  was  in  vain ; 
And  that  wit  and  not  muscle  must  carry  the  day : 

He  thought  of  a  dareaevil  plan. 

[92] 


I'k'i 


From  a  medicine  chest,  which  he  long  had  possessed. 

He  first  took  a  stock  of  vaccine; 
Which  with  studious  care  he  concealc  '  in  his  breast. 

Smiling  grimly  while  tucking  it  in. 
To  the  men  of  his  band  he  next  issued  command, 

That  should  fortune  go  hard   with   their  chief, 
They  must  leave  hhn  to  fate  and  beat  hasty  retreat, 

In  hopes  of  thus  gaining  relief. 

Then  oflF  in  the  van  on  his  charger  he  rode, 

Till  the  field  of  commotion  was  near; 
Where,  beckoning  the  troop  to  remain  in  the  wood 

And  watch  till  his  fate  was  made  clear. 
He  rose  in  his  stirrups,  put  spurs  to  his  steed, 

And  alone   from  the  well-hidden   spot. 
With  his  armb  high  in  air  at  a  neck  breaking  speed 

He  flew  o'er  the  plain  like  a  shot. 

Surprised  at  such  daring  the  Indians  rush  out. 

Their  bloodthirsty  weapons  in  hand; 
Yet  faltered  to  shoot  as  their  foe  faced  about 

And  raced  near  the  place  where  they  stand. 
So  oblivious  he  seemed  of  his  sentence  to  die : 

He  surely  was  dreaming  or  mad; 
Or  wp.s  he  inspired  by  the  Spirits  on  high? 

Was  it  skill  from  above  he  displayed? 

Would  they  shoot?     Hardly  yet.     Curiosity  goads, 

To  see  what  the  man  will  do  next ; 
So  they  wait  and  they  watch  and  they  watch  and  they 
wait 

Still  growing  more  greatly  perplexed. 
For  now  as  he  rushes  like  wind  o'er  the  plain 

Tod  adds  lo  his  tactics  absurd. 
By  groaning  and  moaning  again  and  again. 

Though  uttering  never  a  word. 


[  93  ] 


V  ■**"» 


#H 


Throwing  guns  to  the  ground  they  gather  around, 

Their  features  grown  ghastly  with  fear: 
The  death  denting  plot  and  the  feud  are  forgot — 

What  news  does  their  en^    y  wear? 
They  beg  him  to  speak  as  b      junds  o'er  the  mead. 

What  harm  does  his  sorrow  portend? 
Has  Scomalt*  grown  angry?  they  anxiously  plead; 

Is  she  bringing  the  world  to  an  end? 

Now  Tod  is  your  chance.    If  yc  •  falter  you  fail. 
The  (  itical   moment   has  come, 
"'lid  your  ruse  be  suspected  you'll  honestly  wail, 
it  s  a  case  of  succeed  or  succumb. 
He  wneels  to  the  left  and  he  wheels  to  the  right; 

Then,  reining  his  charger  with  care; 
Through  his  teeth  in  ^<oarse  accents  of  well-assumed 
fright, 
He  hisses:  "The  smallpox!     Beware!" 

"The  <mallpox"  they  echo  in  direst  dismay; 

"The  smallpox"  rings  out  to  the  sky. 
No  wonder  the  savages  tremble  and  pray; 

No  wonder  they  stagger  and  sigh. 
Scarce  .:  decade  has  flown  since  by  smallpox  alone, 

Near  i  alf  of  their  tribe  was  laid  low; 
Nor  cared  it  for  prowess  with  dagger  or  gun, — 

The  brave  with  the  cowards  must  go. 

"The  smallpox!     The  smallpox!"  aloud  they  repeat; 

And  the  forest  sends  back  the  sad  cry. 
"Is  there     othing  to  stop  the  fell  scourge"  they  entreat, 

Are  we  fated  to  fester  and  die?" 
"Not  so,"  said  our  hero  with  well-feigned  concern, 

"I  came  here  to  save  you"  he  said; 
"Let  the  bravest  among  you  come  forth  in  c'ue  turn. 


'And  I'll  free 


from  danger  and  dread." 


•Scomalt,    a    female    deity,    and    the    ruler   of    Hea'  en   in    the 
Shushwap   religion. 

[94] 


A,    Hn    t    ^"""'""^'^  «"d  penknife  in  hand. 
As  though  among  brothers  and  friends 
he  scraped  the  right  arms  of  the  chiefs  of'th.  k    ^ 
And  with  vaccine  thoir  whoI^.L  tfen     *  ^"'' 

T   T    .'•  ""f  ^  '^  '^''  '^^  »°°k  specia    care 
To  d,^h.,  knife  deep  in  the  skin. 
Of  the  ch.efs  whom  he  knew  had  had  more  than  their 

In  the  plot'to  kill  him  and  his  kin. 

Completely  outwitted,  appeased,  and  disarmed. 
The  savages  do  as  they're  bid; 

But"n'r!5  '*?  '^'  '"^^'^'^^  unharmed; 
But  paid  him  for  all  that  he  did 

That  they ve  found  a  dear  friend  in  their  foe- 
Who  .n  ,o.te  of  their  warlike  and  savage  array 
Had  ventured  to  save  them  from  woe. 

When  each  had  been  doctored.  John  chuckled  in  glee- 
Such  precaution  was  doubly  a  cure  -  ' 

Whifetl"  "ii  °'  '•"^"P"''  '""'''^  --«day  be  free 
Th!!  K    t  ?    "  *''*"■  '°''  '''"''  ^ou\6  ensure 
Then  back  he  returned  to  his  followers'  fold 

While  from  that  day  to  this  is  the  true  story  told  - 
How  Tod  Fought  his  Foes  w.th  Vaccine 

HUMANITY-A   TOAST. 

Here'.s  to  humanity!     Let  us  drink  deep • 
Here  s  to  its  progress  in  waking  and  sle^p 
Drink  to  Its  weakness,  that  we  may  recafl 
A  minute!    A  second!    And  that  may  be  all • 
Its  uni  s  have  perished  in  midst  of  the  thought 
But  still  prosper  tasks  that  the  race  has  befot 

{  95  ] 


M 


iii 


I     ; 


P     f  \ 


f' 


Drink  to  humanity!     Why  should  we  not? 
Look  at  the  wonders  e'en  frailty  wrought: 
See  the  white  peaks  of  Parnassus  we've  scaled! 
See  the  far  oceans  our  travelers  have  sailed! 
Think  of  the  thunderbolts  proving  our  worth, 
Bearing  n.en's  thoughts  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 

Drink  to  humanity!   See  it  at  work! 
Where  is  there  task  that  the  whole  race  will  shirk  ? 
Look  at  the  mountains  of  rock  it  has  bored! 
Look  at  the  heavens  its  bird-men  have  soared! 
Tunnelling  rivers— bridging  the  deep- 
Sowing,— and  sowing  for  others  to  reap. 

Drink  to  humanity!     Loudly  proclaim 
It  and  Divinity  one  and  the  same: 
Nothing  can  daunt  it— no  barrier  restrain; 
Where  nature  resists,  its  resistance  is  vain: 
We  once  had  our  limits,  but  that  time  is  gone; 
The  universe  wakes  to  Hum.\nity's  dawn. 

TO  MY  SWEETHEART  PLUS 

I  loved  you  my  darling— when  first  I  beheld  you; 

Your  daintiness  won  me  ere  yet  1  had  wooed: 
Your  smile  seemed  like  heaven  and  so  surely  thrilled  me 

That  soon  I  the  only  course  open  pursued. 

I  loved  you  my  darling— when  later  you  promised 
That  you  and  your  charms  would  forever  be  mine: 

And  in  the  bright  hope  of  a  future  so  glowing: 
What  wonder  I  thought  you  a  creature  divine? 

I  loved  you  my  darling— when  tightly  I  pressed  you. 
Close,  close  to  my  bosom  a  newly  made  bride; 

And  fonder,  still  fonder  I  loved  and  caressed  you 
As  daily  you  fashioned  your  place  by  my  side. 

[  96  ] 


m 


But  dearer,  true  helpmeet,  each  season  has  left  you ; 

Though  pangs  of  dread  childbirth  have  scored  your 
fair  brow : 
Those  furrows  to  me  that  much  closer  have  cleft  you — 

//  ever  I  loved  you  my  darling  'tis  now. 

IN  HONOR  OF  DR.  JOHN  GORRIE 

(,Of  Apalachicola,  Fla.,  who  invented  Artificial  Ice,  in  the  Year 

1845) 

Give  him  a  niche  in  the  temple  of  Fame 
Give  him  his  place  and  enhallow  his  name ! 
He,  who  in  love  for  his  suffering  kind, 
Lent  them  the  use  of  his  wonderful  mind : 
Pointed  the  way  by  unheard  of  device 
To  make  in  the  Tropics  the  purest  of  Ice. 

Give  him  a  niche !    May  his  name  never  die ! 
Build  him  a  monument  stately  and  high. 
Who,  in  the  ages,  has  equalled  his  thought? 
VVho  for  his  fellows  such  solace  has  brought? 
Think  of  the  troubles  his  skill  has  allayed ! 
Think  of  the  inroads  on  pain  he  has  made. 

Give  him  a  niche  and  enshrine  it  with  flowers ! 
Honor  the  man  with  divinity's  powers ! 
He  who,  no  matter  how  sultry  the  day, 
Drove  from  damp  foreheads  the  fever  away: 
Pay  quick  a  tribute  that  nobody  shuns, 
To  GORRIE — greatest  of  Florida's  sons. 


TALLAHASSEE 

On  the  red  hill ,  of  o'd  Leon  Tallahassee  sits  as  queen, 
Winning  subjects  of  whoever  comes  her  guest; 

From  her  heights  in  all  directions  such  a  royal  view  is 
seen 
That  we  wonder  was  there  ever  place  so  blest. 

[97] 


On  the  streets  the  bearded  liveoaks  stretch  around  their 
hoary  arms 
Blending  beauty  with  the  shadows  that  they  throw  • 
And  the  sun  forever  shining  helps  to  spread  his  tropic 
charms 

As  beneath  the  shady  boughs  we  come  and  go. 

Roses  white  and  red  and  crimson  and  the  pink  crepe 
myrtle  bloom 
Scatter  round  each  home  the  loveliest  of  hues- 
While  magnolias  and  mimosas  fill  the  air  with  'their 
perfume 

Till  the  luxury  of  living  cures  the  blues. 

Storied  hills  and  fertile  valleys  vie  to  make  one's  life 
worth  while 
And  we  saunter  forth  as  student  or  as  sage  • 
Here  are  fields  of  corn  and  cotton  reaching  out   for 
many  a  mile- 
Over  there  Wakulla  fumes  in  smouldering  rage. 

Here  pecan  and  fig  trees  blossom,  there  swing  stalks  of 
sugar  cane: 
Pomegranates  add  their  lustre  where  they  may  • 
And  the  a.r  we  breathe  is  laden  with  a  conquest'  over 
pam, 

And  an  atmosphere  of  honor  gilds  the  day. 

This  is  where  the  Prince  lies  buried-he  who  sought  for 
quiet  spot 

In  the  evening  of  his  days  to  flee  the  world  ■ 
Just  bes.de  him  sleep  the  soldiers  who  for  us  and  glory 
fought,  *      -^ 

And  who  died  beneath  the  Southland's  flag  unfurled. 


f    1      : 


[  98  ] 


Yonder  crest  is  where  the  chieftain  after  whom  the 
Town  is  named 
And  the  braves  he  led  to  battle  used  to  dwell ; 
While  surrounding  lies  the  County  that,  in  justice  surely, 
claimed 
A  name  that  youth  eternal  would  compel. 

On  the  red  hills  of  old  Leon  Tallahassee  sits  as  queen, 
Winning  subjects  of  whoever  comes  her  guest; 

The  Capital  of  Florida  she  reigns  by  merit's  sheen : 
And  her  poet  pays  his  tribute  with  the  rest. 

RUMINATIONS  BY  THE  SIDE  OF  A  FLORIDA 
SHELL  MOUND 

At  ous  places  along  the  East  Coast  of  Florida  and  occasion- 
ally I.  (he  interior  are  to  be  found  mounds,  mostly  composed  of 
shells  laid  in  layers,  but  in  which  have  been  found  fish  and  other 
bones,  weapons,  cooking  utensils,  and  other  articles  that  an  anti- 
quarian might  use  to  great  purpose  in  weaving  a  most  intelligible 
story  of  primeval  America.  In  one  of  these  mounds  located  at 
New  Smyrna  has  been  exposed  the  remains  of  a  fort  constructed 
of  Coquina  rock  that  may  be  the  one  constructed  by  Columbus  on 
his  second  voyage  to  America  in  1505.  In  that  event  Anthro- 
pologists may  be  able  to  most  correctly  conjecture  the  age  of  the 
various  mounds,  as  at  least  six  feet  of  shell  covered  the  New 
Smyrna  fort,  and  the  stone  work  in  its  turn  is  resting  on  shell, 
showing  that  a  mound  had  existed  there  before  the  fort  was 
projected,  and  had  been  primarily  selected  owing  to  its  height 
and  commanding  position  for  the  purposes  of  fortification.  The 
fact  that  the  ruins  of  the  fort  were  actually  covered  by  s  oil 
would  seem  to  prove  that  some  of  the  mound  builders  were  in 
existence  after  the  time  of  Columbus. 

Hail !  wondrous  preacher  from  the  ages  past ! 
Reminding  mortals  of  their  little  span  ;— 
AflFc   ling  glimpses  of  the  world's  great  plan, 

Wherein  by  layers  of  shell,  each  race  is  classed. 

Shell,  in  deep  layers  with  earthy  streaks  between, 
Whose  blank  oblivion  wiped  the  last  race  out, 
And  made  succeeding  races  even   doubt 

There  had  been  other  races  uii  ihe  scene. 

f  99  ] 


<ti 


Oh,  what  a  fund  of  human  love  and  lore 
Is  here  suggested  by  your  crumbling  mound,— 
Where  rude  utensils,  that  within  are  found, 

Describe  the  makers  who  have  gone  before. 

Unlike  Egyptian  Pyramids  that  show 
Completion  in  one  cycle  by  design, 
Your  heights  without  design  have'  lain  supine, 

And  taken  many  centuries  to  grow. 

Who  laid  your  base  within  old  Mother  Earth 

Entirely  reckless  of  a  super  pile? 

Who  scoured  the  beach  for  many  a  weary  mile 
To  bnng  the  quota  that  still  proves  of  worth? 

Was  he  a  Merman  or  was  he  a  Shade? 

A  Lilliputian  or  a  Brobdignag? 

Did  lost  Atlantis  on  some  towering  crag 
Protect  him  till  a  landing  here  was  made? 

Was  he  a  mariner  from  Europe  tost? 

Or  did  his  ancestors  from  Asia  spring? 

And  by  migrations  from  the  far  north  bring 
His  household  gods  to  warm  Floridian  Coast? 

Was  he  a  scion  of  the  Aztec  race? 

Was  he  of  peaceful  or  of  warlike  mould? 

Came  he  like  later  Spaniard  searching  gold, 
Or  was  he  guided  by  the  fleeting  chase  ? 

Was  there  a  Washington  in  that  far  time? 

Or  did  he  need  a  Lincoln  to  preside? 

Did  he  have  Caesars  triumphing  in  pride 
O'er  subjugated  nations,  steeped  in  crime? 


fyl 


f  100  ] 


-.^l 


But  why  so  cunous?    Is  it  not  in  line 
That  he  has  been  here  and  has  left  his  mark  - 
See  where  burnt  shell  and  ashes  prove  the  Snark 

Promethean,  his.  that  gave  him  power  divine!    ^^ 

He  left  no  Homer  to  enshrine  his  joy; 

But  here  we  read  of  him  and  know  his  place. 

These  are  h.s  records  where  within  we  trace 
As  valued  information  as  we  have  of  Troy 

But  e'en  such  records,  sacred  tho'  they  are 
The  present  age  seeks  quickly  to  efface,' 
A-H  for  commercial  ends,  in  great  disgrace 

Wn.  scatter  on  the  highways  near  and  far 

Centuries  of  centuries  perhaps  have  passed 
Since  by  your  builders  you  began  to  rise: 
But  now  profanely  and  before  our  eyes 

We  see  you  leveled  as  we  stand  aghast      ' 

Hold!  Ruthless  Vandals!     Let  the  love  of  fame 

^Z'\r:  '"""^•°"  ^"^  ^°-  «-ed 
AmLT,       ,'■''  ^''^'^'''  P'-^y  ^'ve  heed 
And  scatheless  keep  each  mound  from  local  claim. 

Can  petty  road,  worn  out  ere  yet    n  place 

Be  compensation  for  so  great  a  loss? 

inese  are  the  Vedahe  fh^'  «> 
Wh»,«;„   A        •     ^^^^"^  ^"o    oergrown  w  th  moss 
Wherem  Amenca  its  youth  may  trace. 

If  that  same  study  that  Pompeii  demands 

Who^tTs  r^dir"  ttlr tTf' 
What  trophies  tickle  faft^^l^tS  ^ht^Sl  ^^""^ '" 
Hail!    frosted  preacher  of  the  ages  sped  < 

I  give  you  audience  and  your  ruins  scan; 


BACHELOR'S  HALL— A  SONG. 

Greatest  poets  have  sung  with  a  rapturous  swell, 

Of  their  country,  their  home,  or  their  friends; 
They've  detailed  to  their  readers  each  ecstatic  spell 

That  on  soniL  dark-eyed  maiden  depends. 
But  there's  one  thing  on  which  they  have  silently  gazed, 

And  have  mentioned  it  never  at  all ; 
And  a  theme  without  doubt  they  ought  most  to  have 
praised 

Is  "The  pleasures  of  Bachelor's  Hall." 


't 


1 1 


Oh,  the  pleasures  of   Bachelor's    Hall; 

Oh,  the  pleasures  bi   Bachelor's    Hall ; 

A  theme  without  doubt  that  ought  most  to  be  praised 

Is  the  pleasures  of  Bachelor's  Hall. 

You  have  no  boardin'  missis  to  measure  your  feeds ; — 

To  transfc   m  your  old  boots  into  steak ; 
And  when  pay-day  comes  round  with  its  much  pressing 
needs 

The  big  half  of  your  wages  to  take. 
You've  no  one  to  hint  that  it's  getting  quite  late, 

When  a  friend  comes  to  give  you  a  call; 
And  when  out  after  ten  you've  no  reasons  to  state. 

In  the  pleasures  of  Bachelor's  Hall. 

No  parents  or  "loved  ones"  there  chide  you  for  nought, 
No  mother-in-law  gives  a  "breeze," 

No  sisters,  or  cousins,  or  aunts  must  be  fought, 
When  trying  to  plague  or  to  tease. 

You've  no  wife  to  nag  of  your  being  to  club, 
No  children  around  you  to  squall ; 

No  dressmaker's  bills!  ah  there  is  the  rub- 
In  the  pleasures  of  Bachelor's  Hall. 


I  102] 


U  hen  youVe  hungry  you've  only  to  stifle  the  pan« 
From  your  cupboard  well  stocked  near  the  w^- 

A,Klsud,  comforts,  „,y  friends,  quite  exclusive  b  long 
To  the  pleasures  of  Bachelor's  Hall. 

^^fJj^^^^T^iClPATIOK   OF    THE    DRAIVArp 
AND  OPENING  OF  THE  FLORrDA   pv^^o  ^ 
GLADES  COUNTRY  TO  SmL^^JM^^f ' 

They  are  coming!     They  are  coming! 

Don  t  you  hear  their  measured  tread  = 
Ihey  are  coming  by  the  thousand 

In  their  search  for  daily  bread : 
From  the  far  off  Rocky  Mountains. 

From   Pacific's  shining  strand. 
Come  the  echoes  of  their  marching 

1  o  the  happy  promised  land  • 
Oyer  fields  of  corn  and  cotton 

Can't  you  hear  the  heavy  tramp? 

With  the  Tropic  iMoon  for  lamp. 

They  are  coming!     They  are  coming' 

And  their  hopt;s  are  fixed  and  sure- 

Ihey  are  coming  'neath  the  frost  line 

Where  the  summer  suns  endure- 
From  the  storm-swept  Western  prairie- 

From  the  Northern  snowy  plain ; 
lo  the  land  of  milk  and  honey- 
To  the  land  of  youth  and  gain 
Hark  to  yonder  springing  footsteps* 

Hear  the  laughter  and  the  glee ' 
As  they  come  in  bands  together 
To  the  clime  from  Winter  free. 
[  103  J 


They  are  coming!     They  are  coming! 

And  we  cannot  change  their  course; 
They  have  heard  about  the  Everglades 

And  will  soon  be  at  their  source. 
O'er  the  classic  Suwannee  River 

They  are  coming  by  the  score; 
And  we'd  better  make  the  best  of  it 

And  welcome  them  galore: 
For  the  time  has  come  to  hustle 

And  get  ready  for  the  fray — 
As  the  long  night  vigil's  ended 

And  it's  now  Floridian  Day. 


{  104] 


ACROSTIC  AND  AUTOGRAPH  VERSES 


h  # 


1  rm 


ACROSTIC  AND  AUTOGRAPH   VERSES. 

Throughout  large  portions  of  America  it  it  a  fad,  especially 
of  the  fairer  sejf  to  keep  albums,  u\  which  friends  are  given 
an  opportunity  to  write  verses  of  praise,  or  advice,  or  "what 
they  will'  over  their  signature.  The  following  are  samples  of 
verses  the  author  has  used,  from  time  to  time,  at  the  solicitation 
of   his  friends: 


TO  GRACE. 

Gold  is  nothing  but  glittering  dust, 

/Rubies  at  best  are  but  stone, 

^11  wealth  is  mere  dross, 

Cease  pining  its  loss 

£njoy  what  you  have  without  moan. 

TO  ANNIE. 

A  woman  who  wishes  to  be 
A'o  laggard  in  beauty  and  grace 
A^eed  have  no  cause  for  fear, 
li  she  will  but  keep  clear 
£ach  folly  which  tends  to  debase. 

TO  LIZZIE. 

Lizzie,  if  you  wish  to  be  happy 
In  this  world  of  care  and  woe. 
Zealously  labor  and  try  to  be 
Zephyrs  to  each  friend  you  know, 
/nasmuch  as  trying  will  help  you 
Equally  happy  with  them  to  grow. 


[  107] 


:) 


\ 


\ 


lii 


I  f 


TO  EDIE  HOWE. 

£agerly  I  took  your  album 
Dipped  my  pen  deep  down  in  ink, 
/n  the  meantime  trying  truly, 
£v'ry  plan  I  could  to  think. 

//ere  at  last  I  make  confession, 
Oh !  believe  me,  for  'tis  true, 
[fhen  each  thought  of  line  was  written 
£v'ryone  suggested  you. 

TO  GERTRUDE. 

CJoodly  looks  and  graceful  actions, 
£ach  by  virtue  close  entwined, 
/?eap  respect  from  e'en  the  dullest, — 
Take  the  hearts  of  more  refined. 
Rite  me,  pray,  among  the  latter; 
(/ntold  thoughts  I  can't  appease; 
£>iity.  Pleasure,  I   would   forfeit, 
£ager  much  your  grace  to  please. 

TO   NELLIE. 

Now  that  I  have  a  chance  to  write 

£ach  wish   I  have  for  thee. 

Lest  I  should  leave  e'en  one  from  sight 

Z-ife  seemeth  sad  to  me. 

/  therefore  write  with  bated  breath — 

£ach  joy  that's  known  be  thine  till  death. 

TO  EDNA   (NICKNAMED  "NED"). 

£ach  moment  since  I  saw  her  face 
/distracted  here  and  there  I've   sped; 
A^or  balm  nor  hope  can  peace  replace, — 
A\\  life  seems  void  apart  from  Ned. 

[  108  ] 


TO  NELLIE. 

A^earer  to  thee  I  feign  would  be. 

£ven  in  time  of  woe; 

/.ong  years  with  thee  could  only  be 

^ong  years  of  joy  to  know; 

/  therefore  write  this  humble  prayer, 

£ach  hour  give  me  that  you  can  spare. 

TO  MAGGIE. 

^any  friends  in  here  have  written; 
AW  professing  they  arc  true ; 
Greedy  to  admit  they're  smitten; 
Gladly  writing  love  to  you; 
/f  I  thought  my  case  not  hopeless 
Eagerly  the  same   I'd  do. 

TO  FLORENCE. 

Fair  lady  while  your  pretty  face, 

Z-ove's  darts   around  do  throw; 

Or  while  in  you  each  cherished  ^race, 

/?eveals  sweet  virtue's  glow; 

Entranced    I    gaze— admire— adore; 

A^or  chide  me  when  I  crave: 

Come  Flo  and  all  my  peace  restore ; 

Employ  me  as  your  slave. 

TO   NETTIE. 

(A    young    lady    in    Newfoundland) 

A^ewfoundland   has   inspiration, 
£'en  to  suit  a  poet's  whim; 
TTiemes  of  wonderful  creation— 
rhemcs  of  grandeur  crave  his  hymn. 
If,  howe'er  one  pennon  curls 
£xtra  high,   'tis  o'er   her  girls. 

r  109  ] 


3r  **" 


~  t' 


;  ' . 


\ 

1 


\ 


TO  MAUD. 

Modesty  is  woman's  shield; 
AW  shame's  bolts  by  it  are  scattered; 
Tntil  pride  worn  weak  points  yield:— 
Danger  then  finds  safeguard  shattered. 

TO  JESSIE. 

I've  fumbled  o'er  your  album  neat 

With  many  an  anxious  look; 
I've  turned  the  leaves  o'er  one  by  one, 

Gazed  into  ev'ry  nook; 
But  truth  to  tell  I've  only  found 

One  fpll  page  in  the  book. 

I  therefore  with  prophetic  pen 

To  w.ite  its  fortune  dare; 
A  few  more  years  will  soon  have  passed, 

Its  leaves  now  white  and  bare 
Will  then  be  full  of  loved  ones'  names 

And   autographs   quite   rare. 

Each  page  will  breathe  some  loving  wish 

For  you  of  untold  bliss; 
Perchance  at  whiles  you'll  look  them  o'er 

With  many  a  sigh  and  kiss; 
And  when  you  do,  please  don't  forget 

To  stop  and  sigh  at  this. 


TO 


i  -a- 


(lu  memory   of  a   game  of   forfeits). 

If  there's  aught  that  is  better 
Than  diamonds  or  pearls, 

It  is  plucking  ripe  cherries 
With  lovable  girls. 


[  no  1 


TO  A   CHANCE  ACQUAINTANCE. 

Dear  Miss  Cogher.  though  b  :t  seldom 

We  have  seen  each  ot'of,  ;acr. 
Yet  I  have  been  quite  ei  rimored 

Of  your  beauty  and  y,  ur  ^-race. 
And  though  Fortune  be  : -J,  st  .,,, 

And  we  never  more  should  meet] 
Yet  with  fondness  I'll  remember 

All  our  friendship,  short  but  sweet. 

TO  ETHEL. 

Little  Ethel,  bright  and  fair, 

Crowned  by  locks  of  golden  hair, 

With  her  eyes  of  roguish  blue. 

And  her  cheeks  of  rosy  hue, 

Has  so  gladdened  me  of  late. 

That  I  fain  would  bribe  old  Fate 

To  forget  for  once  his  laws,— 

Banish  from  her  life  its  flaws  — 

Make  her   years   but   rounds   of  pleasure. 

i'ull  of  joy  and  health  and  leisure 

And  when   death  at   last  must   come- 

May  It  whisper  "welcome  home." 

TO  A   LADY 

the^i^'l.'^''""''/''"^   ^   '"'"'''"  °^   'he   Vancouver    H'orld  staff 
tZ'-     ""'   '°   '^'^   ""^"^  ^   ^'---   0"    Chinese   i^S 

H  you  Wish  to  be  happy,  pray  take  my  suggestion, 

Th  n      .'°"-    '"^'^  -  *'-  ^---t  Chinese  question; 
Then  when  "justice  to  all"  is  your  motto  unfurled, 
1  know  you  11  remember  the  scribe  of  the  World. 


\  111   ] 


m 


LiEi£ 


t  1 


',     I 


I 
f 

ri 


TO  A  YOUNG  LADY 

Who   lived    in    a    suburban   town,    and    who    the   author   used 
to   see   off   on    her   train   quite    frequently:— 

When  silver  threads  are  mingled  with 

Your  golden   locks  of  hair, 
Perchance  at  whiles  you'll  take  your  specs 

And  find  this  album  rare. 
You'll  turn  its  pages  one  by  one 

Till  this  vile  scroll  you  gain; 
Then  with  a  knowing  smile  you'll  say: 

"That  old  three-thirty  train." 

TO  JIM   THOMAS 

Whose  lamp  the  author  accidentally  broke  at  an  entertainment 
to  which   he  had  loaned   it  in   North    Ben.l,   Oregon. 

Dear  Thomas,  if  the  truth  be  spoken, 

You  must  be  a  sorry  scamp, 
If  your  ties  of  love  are  l)roken 

Just  as  easy  as  your  lamp. 

TO  ANNIE. 

"When  age  and  care  have  changed  your  hair 

To  locks  of  snowy  white; 
When  time  and  tide,  by  youth  defied. 

Have  nearly  dimmed  your  sight; 

With  tott'ring  steps  and  flutt'ring  heart, 

You'll  find  this  book  at  times; 
And  as  you  scan  each  Cupid's  dart 

Well  hid  beneath  these  rhymes, 

You'll  pass  some  by  with  deep  drawn  sigh. 

At  others  you  will  chaff. 
But  when  this  page  you  chance  to  spy, 

You'll  hold  your  sides  and  laugh. 

[  112  ] 


f  9 


TO  PORTIA. 

Golden  rays  of  brightest  sunshine 

Enter  through  the  thickest  cloud, 
Roses  often  grow  in  splendor 

Where  the  coarsest  weeds  do  crowd; 
So  it  is  with  you,  sweet  Portia, 

In   this   world   of   sin   and   care 
Both  in  features  and  in  goodness 

You  keep  blooming   fresh  and   fair. 

TO  MARTHA  MILLS. 

Man  indeed's  a  great  creation, 

Ev'ryone  admits  'tis  so; 
And  it  needs  no  long  oration 

To  explain  what  all  do  know. 

But  despite  his  power  and  greatness 
And  his  large  expansive  mind. 

For  a  peer,  e'en  though  ^>p's  mateless, 
He  need  not  go  far  ' 

Woman,  yes,  despotic  woman, 
Makes  him  do  whate'er  she  wills. 

And  much  more  if  she's  a  charmer, 
Like  my  friend.  Miss  Martha  Mills. 

TO   MAGGIE  THOR  \ 

When  Juneau's  mists  and  Juneau's  hills 

Have  faded   from  the  scene. 
And  when  'tween  me  and  Juneau's  girls 

Vast  oceans  intervene; 
1 11  feel  so  sorry,  glum  and  sad. 

So  wretched,  lonely,  blue; 
There's  nothing  sure  will  make  me  glad, 

But  coming  back  to  you. 


[  113  ] 


-..«^.«,-jn^.-7.    .rm^rm'^^ 


ii 


TO  MRS.  THORP. 

At  an  Easter  festival  in  Juneau,  Alaska,  a  personified  nursery 
rhyme  performance  was  given,  in  which  Mrs.  Thorp's  son, 
Murph,  represented  the  personage  who  ministered  to  the  I'iou's 
wants   of   the   author,   supposed  to   be   Simple    Simon. 

In  after  years,  when  looking  o'er 
These  leaves  then   torn  and  shattered, 

While  thinking  of  the  friends  who  wrote 
Your  praises  true  or  flattered; 

Try  hard  to  call  to  mind  that  night. 
When  Murph  was  Tom  the  pieman; 

For  then  'twill  be  an  easy  flight 
To  think  of  Simple  Simon. 

TO  ONE  ABOUT  TO  LEAVE  HOME. 

You'll  find,  my  friend,  when  far  away, 

In   search  of  light  you  roam; 
As   dimmer  grows   its  distant   ray, 

More  bright  'twill  beam  at  home. 

TO    NETTIE 

Who   had   expressed   a   desire   in   my    presence   to    become  an 
author. 

Nettie  if  you'd  be  successful, 

In  the  literary  strife ; 
Your    desires    must    all    end    blissful. 

If  you  strive  to  give  them  life. 

MISCELLAXEOUS. 

I 

To  write  all  your  praises 

Seems   to   me   so    absurd; 
I   think  I'll  just   speak  them, 

And  not  write  a  word. 

[  114  ] 


II 

When  in  a  whirl  of  joy  and  glee 
I  care  not  if  you  think  of  me; 
But  when  you're  sad  and  feeling  glum, 
Confide  in  me  and  I'll  keep  "mum." 

Ill 

My  love  for  you  is  like  a  tree 
In  some  green  woodland  dale, 

As  older  it  may  grow  in  years, 
It  grows  more  strong  and  hale. 

IV 

If  all  your  praises  I  siiould  write 

Within  this  little  book, 
I  fear  none  else  would  have  a  page, 

Nor  e'en  one  little  nook. 


I  take  your  album  off  the  shelf. 

And  write  abo.e  my  name 
These  words,  to  show  my  love  for  you 

Will  always  be  the  same. 

VI 

In  after  years  when  time  and  tide 
Have  changed  your  hair  ajid  feature.',. 

You'll  find  this  book,  and  iaughing  say: 
How  oft  I  charmed  these  creatures. 

VII 

As  the  air  is  full  of  birds. 
So  this  book  of  gentle  words; 
As  the  sea  is  ful!  of  fishes, 
So  this  page  of  my  good  wishes. 

[  115  ] 


7i 


VIII 

When  life  is  done,  its  troubles  o'er, 
May  death  be  bu*  the  open  door 
Through  which  you'll  pass  to  brighter  shore, 
To  enjoy  peace  for  evermore. 

IX 

Though  I  feign  would  conceal  what  I'm  forced  to  admit, 
Since  I  saw  you  I've  lost  both  my  heart  and  my  wit ; 
For  none  else  can  I  love;  nought  else  can  I  do, 
But  think,  talk  or  sing  uf  my  meetings  with  you. 


That  there's  many  a  slip  'twixt  the  cup  and  the  lip, 

Is  a  proverb  as  old  as  it's  true ; 
So  when  friends  make  a  break,  be  quite  certain  you  take 

The  intention  for  all  that  they  do. 

XI 

Though  the  weeks  of  our  friendship  are  scarcely  a  score, 

I  feel,  as  I  now  say  adieu, 
That  'tis  well  for  my  heart  we  so  quickly  must  part, 

Else  soon  'twould  be  broken  in  two. 

XII 

In    haste    I    glance    your    album    o'er. 

Then  take  my  ink  and  pen. 
And  write  this  word  or  two  to  say, 

I  hope  we'll  meet  again. 

XIII 

Your    friendship    partner,    I    confess, 

(Nor  do  not  think  I  flatter,) 
Is  quite  as  needful  to  my  bliss, 

As  whisky  is  to  water. 


[  116] 


EPITAPHS. 


A 1  . 


If 


4 

i 

I  '''Hi 

iHi 


ON  A  BIRD. 

Approach  ye  warblers  from  on  high, 

And  chant  your  tuneful  grief; 
Here  lies  a  mate,  snatched  from  the  sky 

By  Death,  that  dariiiK  thief. 
Yet  while  ye  sorrow,  still  rejoice; 

For  from  the   funeral  pyre. 
Good  warblers  rise  to  higher  skies. 

To  join  the  heavenly  choir. 

ON  A  LAZY  MAN. 

Here  lies  Simon  Smoothface,  whose  most  noted  trait 
Ere  he  passed  through  the  Valley  of  Sorrow, 

Was  never  to  dream  of  commencing  today 
Any  task  he  might  shirk  till  tomorrow. 

ON  A  HOT-HEADED  FRIEND. 

Grown  cool  at  last,  here  lies  McLaren 
Upon  whose  head,  though  far  from  barren. 
No  beastie  dared  to  rest  its  feet— 
Lest  in  the  act  it  died  ui  heat. 

ON  AN  EMPLOYER 

Whose  most  prominent  trait  was  an  ever-growing  desire  to  be 
thoroughly  understood.  In  his  efforts  to  make  his  instructions 
plain,  or,  as  he  himself  termed  it,  "self-explanatory."  he  had 
become  very  tautological  in  his  style  of  composition,  while 
his  conversation  fairly  bristled  with  the  interrogation,  "do  you 
understand  ?" 

Here   Carr  lies  low;  Death's  magic  wand 
Has  proved  its  power,  "you  understand?" 
No  more  his  wordy  ways  will  worry, 
For  reasons  "self  explanatory." 

[  119] 


■I- 


ON   A  WELL-KNOWN   TOPER. 
Dear  friends,  a  line  or  two  will  do 

To  tell  you  who  lies  here; 
For  'neath  this  stone,  without  a  groan, 

There  lies  a  keg  of  beer. 

In  other  words,  here  lies  T — P — , 

A  victim  to  strong  drink; 
To  whiskey's  lair  he  went  so  near, 

He  toppled  o'er  the  brink. 

ON  AN  ELDERLY  GENTLEMAN 

Whose  irritability  made  it  impossible  for  those  with  whom 
he  had  to  deal  to  ever  understand  his  quite  frequently  proffered 
instructions.  When,  however,  his  orders  were  carried  out 
apparently  to  the  lettef,  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  to  hear  him  say  in  anything  but  amiable  tones:  "Look 
here,  I  told  you   from  the  first  that  that   was  wrong." 

Death  surel"  is  a  daring  demon. 

To  brave  tb    v  .ath  of  uncle  Heman; 

And  heedless  near  his  dying  song: 

"I  told  you.  Death,  that  that  was  wrong." 

ON  A  VERY  ESTIMABLE  YOUNG  LADY. 

Tread  lightly  here,  for  'neath  this  mound 

My  lady  fair  doth  lie; 
A  fact  which  proves  to  all  around. 

That  saints  do  sometimes  die. 

In  life  so  lovable  and  good. 

Unerring  and  divine. 
Perhaps  'twere  better  that  she  should 

Mid  heaven's  beauty  shine. 

ON  A  CHATTERBOX. 
Here  Horace  lies  a  silent  prize 

Of  unrelenting  Death; 
He  talked  so  much  while  live  and  well — 
He  used  up  all  his  breath. 
[  120  i 


ON  MY  EARLIEST  PATRON. 

In  sweet  oblivion  'neath  this  tomb, 

Friend  Forbes  lies  in  state; 
While   ling'ring   near   in   cheerless   gloom, 

We  mourn  our  luckless   fate. 

For  such  a  jovial  fellow,  he, 

With  ne'er  a  downcast    face; 
Vain,  vain  the  hope,  all  men  agree. 

To  fill  his  vacant  place. 


ed 

lUt 

he 
ok 


ON   MY   FRIEND   IDA. 

'Twere  easy  seen  that  will  of  man 
With  Death   has  nought  to  do; 

For  'neath  this  stone  poor  Ida  lies. 
While  all  the  world   doth   rue. 

In  life  so  full  of  joyous  fun. 

So  beautiful   and  fair; 
When  Death  her  person  would  not   shun. 

What  then  will  he  not  dare? 


ON  A  SMALL  BOY. 

Here  Wilfred  lies,  some  say  brought  low 
By  making  queer  suggestions; 

But  others  think,  who  ought  to  know. 
He   died   from   asking  questions. 


ON  AN  INVETERATE  THEATREGOER. 

Ye  stricken  comrades,  cease  your  wailing. 
While  Fame  to  passers  is  detailing, 
How  Death  found  out  poor  Burton's  failing. 
And  used  it  sore. 

[  121  3 


i  • 


\ 


To  theatres  he  went  so  often, 
A  Program  e'en  his  brain  could  soften, 
So  Death  pinned  one  inside  a  coffin, 
And  raised  the  door. 

And  as  poor  Burton  that  way  passed 
Upon  that  bill  one  look  he  cast, 
But  little  thought  it  was  his  last. 
As   near  he  drew. 

Inside  the  box  he  quickly  stept. 
When  down  the  lid  behind  him  crept 
And  soon  in  Deaths  cold  arms  he  slept. 
While  all  must   rue. 


ON  A  REVEREND  FRIEND. 

Behold !  to  Cosgrove's  tomb  we've  come  • 
We  gaze,  but  sorrow  keeps  us  dumb- 
For  ,t   was  he,  our   learned  parson. 
W  ho  taught  us  to  translate  Upharsin  ; 
Who  oft  explained  the  gospel  stury. 
By  parable  or  allegory; 
And  who  in  feeling  tones  did  often 
Tell  us  how  best  to  cheat  the  coffin. 
But  here,  alas!— his  latest  sermon- 
He  lies  the  feast  of  hungry  vermin 

wu"""  °//''^  "■"'^'  ^^  °""  «=o"'d  teach; 
Whose  lifeless  bones  thus  wisely  preach' 


1    * 


ON  MR.  Mcpherson. 

This  stone  was  erected 
To  recall  that  great  person, 

Who  was  known  to  this  world, 
By  the  name  of  McPhersoa 

I  122] 


His  holy  demeanor,— 

Personified  truth- 
Has  been  used  ever  since 

As  a  guidance  for  youth. 

How  his  wondrous  career 

On  this  earth  was  begun 
Is  a  myst'ry  to  most, 

And  remembered  by  none. 

But  more  wondrous  his  ending, 

H  history's   true; 
For  in  broadest  daylight, 

He  just  faded  from  view. 

ON    A    PROFESSOR    OF    SCIENCE 

Who   was  also  an   .\matetir   Artist 

Below  in  crisp  and  cheerless  garb, 
Poor  Wright  in  silence  lies ; 

While  o'er  him  grows  an  uncalled  herb 
In  hopes   its  name  will  rise. 

Around  his  grave  with  doleful  look, 
Are  pebbles,  rocks  and  stones; 

Collected  there  since  life  forsook 
His   fast  decaying  bones. 

And  well  they  may  their  sorrow  show, 
For  did  he  not,  while  well, 

With  learned  look  and  conscious  glow, 
Their  names  and  species  tell? 

How  great,  ye  flowers  and  trees  around. 
Must  be  your  grief  this  day; 

'Twas  he  who  could,  with  skillful  art. 
Your  very  life  portray. 

[  123  ] 


And  you,  ye  stars,  in  pity  weep, 
For  this  your  comrade  dead; 

Who  now  will  tell,  profound  and  deep, 
The  way  your  course  is  sped? 


And  last  of  all,  ye  human  race, 
With  noiseless  step  draw  nigh; 

When  Death  such  learnedness  can  face. 
You  sure  have  cause  to  sigh ! 


ON   SIR  ISAAC  PITMAN. 

The  father  of  Phonography.     Reguiescat  in  Pace. 

Here  lies  Isaac  Pitman  who,  when  on  earth's  level, 
In  driving  men  crazy  far  outstripped  the  Devil; 
With  his  "iths"  and  his  "thees"  and  his  "ishes"  and 

"zhees" 
No  wonder  so  many  long  wished  him  at  ease: 
But  now  that  he's  gone — give  to  Caesar  his  due — 
Let  us  moan  in  his  honor  one  last  "Aw-oh-oo." 
How  very  consoling,  when  we  follow  his  lead, 
To  know  in  Death's  confines  whose  counsel  to  heed ; 
For  is  it  not  likely  when  Old  Nick  gets  at  him. 
Sir  Isaac  will  take  down  proceedings  verbatim? 

ON  AN  OLD  MAID 

Who,    in    spite    of    many    afternoon    naps    and    a    remarkable 
appetite,  remained  fearfully  and  wonderfully  lean. 

When  Rachel  in  life  her  lone  vigil  was  keeping, 

Her  pleasures  consisted  in  eating  and  sleeping; 

But     now — while     Earth's     wriggling     hosts     hungrily 

weep — 
Death  limits  her  pleasures  to  limitless  sleep. 


[  124  ] 


ON  JACK  McADAM, 

An  old-time  office  mate,  who  had  a  rascally  habit  of  purloining 
the  authors  eraser,   pencil  or  pen.   for  the  sake  of  getting  him 
wiia,      as   he   very   suggestively   termed    it. 

Ye  thieves  and   robbers  bold,  draw  near, 

And  keep  your  faces  calm; 
Here  lies  a  man  you  once  held  dear, 

Poor  Johnny  Mac-a-dam. 

ON  MY  FRIEND  GRACE, 

Whose    most    noticeable    peculiarity    was    the    very    frequent 
ejaculation   of   the   phrase,   "Oh"  dear." 

Poor  Beauty  runs  life's  dreary  race 

All  lonely  since  we  buried  Grace; 

For   'neath  this  mound,   a   fettered  guest. 

The  latter  lies  in  dreamless  rest. 

Far  up  aloft  on  angel  wing 

Her  soul  has  soared  with  sair  s  to  sing; 

But  ere  its  flight,  for  partin^  cheer. 

The  Muses  caught  her  last  "Oh  dear." 

ON  THE  HON.  FRED'K  S.  MORSE. 

Who  had  been  long  enough  in  Florida  politics  to  be  accused 
by  his  opponents  of  almost  every  imaginable  crime,  but  who 
m  spite  of  all  accusations  was  a  most  excellent  good  fellow 
His  kindness  of  heart  was  such  that  whenever  it  fell  to  his  lot 
to  have  to  admonish  anyone  he  would  always  soften  tb'  stroke 
by  the  interrogation  "You  know  what  I  mean?" 

Here  moulds  the  corse  of  "modest"  Morse; 
While  sad-eyed  girls  his  vows  rehearse; 
That  he  is  dead  "The  Boys"  agree— 
His  glass  undrained  confirms  him  free: 
His  prayers  all  spoke— his  last  bank  broke- 
Well  played  his  last  outrageous  joke: 
Let's  now  forget  his  fits  of  spleen, 
And  think  of  "You  know  what  I  mean." 

[  125] 


i« 


'\ 


\ 


ON  A  STOUT  LADY. 

Whose   obesity    was   not   her    only   distraction 

Here  Austie   lies,  nor  will  she  rise 
Till  worms  her  carcase   lighten, 

And  then  Old  Nick  will  have  her  quick, 
With  fat  his  fire  to  brighten. 

A  FLEDGLING'S  EPITAPH. 

There  once  was  a  dear  little  bird 

Whose   twitterings,  no   longer   are   heard; 

It  aspired  to  the  sky, 

While  unable  to  fly, 

And  so  'neath  this  mound  is  interred. 


\l 


u 


SACRED  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  IRENE. 

Though  her  body  still  hallows  this  funeral  pyre. 
Her  spirit  has  joined  the  invisible  choir. 

Through  silence  soft  melodie'^  stealthily  come: 
"Live  nobly  and  proudly   I'll  welcome  you  home." 


•i^ 


^trS 


ENGRAVED  ON  A  MONUMENT. 

Erected  to  the  memory  of  parents  and  brother  by  the  surviving 
members  of  the  family. 

Here  'neath  the  sod,  oblivious  though  we  weep, 
A  father,  mother  and  a  brother  sleep; 
Nor  blame  nor  question  th'   inevitable   frost. 
If    all    too    quickly    their    comradeship    was    lost: 
The  mystery  of  death,  who  curiously  would  brave. 
Must  first  their  loved  ones  meet  beyond  the  silent 
grave. 


126  ] 


ON  JUNEAU'S   MUSE. 


ne. 


ving 


nT""So«r'  '^"•""r''   *"   "^  ""'  issue  i„re7ted     he'  o.lot 
ing.        Some    men    m    their    own    minds    think    they    wereTI 

that    no    mus       'h°otve     ha'rd^Tu.r""  •  ^"   '''   ^"•"'°*'«- 
that     fh.    f  II      '.^"^'^    Jiardy,    could    survive    such    a    blow   as 

iublicl  '"'  '""^   ""^   immediately   placed    before   the 

Upon  the  lonely  mountain  side 
Fair  Juneau's  muse  lies  buried; 

Its  soul  has  crossed  that  great  divide 
O'er  which  we  all  are  ferried. 

Despite  its  youth,   despite  its  vim, 

Despite  its  good  intentions. 
It  was  maligned  to  suit  a  whim 

And   further   man's   contentions. 

The  Free  Press,  maddened  by  the  truth 
The  poor  deceased  was  telling, 

Tried  hard  to  mime  the  witty  youth, 
But  failed,  with  envy  swelling. 

It  straightway,  moved  by  foul  intent. 
With   venom   fell  to   swearing; 

Our   muse,  unable  to  resent, 
Grew  stiff  as  any  herring. 


t: 
e, 
lent 


(Later) -Take   care,   take   care,   ye    brimstone    sprites. 
You'll  soon,   alas!   be  weeping; 
Our  muse  recovered  from  the  bites- 
It  was  not  dead,  but  sleeping. 


r  127  ] 


=  ■, 


\ 


ON  A  LITTLE  GIRL 

Mary  Russell,  by  name,  who  just  lived  long  enough  to  make 
herself  sorely  missed  when  called  by  the  stern  reaper  to  a  better 
place." 

Ye  Strangers  here  in  wonder  stand 
And  see  the  work  of  Death's  dread  hand ; 
That  awful  power  no  more  despise, 
His  latest  victim,  Mary,  lies. 
No  fairer  flower,  no  brighter  gem 
Could  he  to  such  a  fate  condemn, 
And  we  the  losers  by  Death's  gain 
Must  give  her  up,  despite  the  pain. 

Her  years,  though  barely  half  a  score. 
Have  made  htr  loss  to  us  so  sore. 
We  cannot  still  our  throbbing  hearts. 
Now  vacant  left  by  fate's  fell  darts. 
Those  large,  dark  eyes,  that  pretty  face, 
Must  now  enhance   a  better  place. 
From  earth  she's  gone  to  realms  above. 
To  taste  the  sweets  of  heavenly  love. 


ON  A  CRAB  SHELL, 

Picked  up  on  the  shores  of  Alaska  and  taken  to  Cleveland, 
Ohio,  by  Dr.  Volney  McAlpine,  a  dentist  of  that  city,  whom  the 
author  met  while  sojourning  at  Sitka. 

Ye  Cleveland  strangers,  hear  my  prayer. 
And  lift  my  corse  with  tender  care; 
From  Sitka's  far  off  strand  I've  come. 
Against  my  will,  for  'twas  my  home. 
Alive  I  scorned  man's  cunning  wiles 
And  spurned  alike  his  frowns  or  smiles; 
But  when  laid  low  by  Death's  dread  stab, 
Man  picked  me  up  a  conquered  crab. 


[  128  ] 


IN  MExMORIAM  "F.  C.  C.  B." 

An  Irish  solicitor's  apprentice;  alias  a  would-be  shotsman  and 
sport;  alias  a  self-claimed  descendent  of  Henry  the  Third  by 
his  father's  side;  alias  more  recently  of  so-called  "landed  gen'trv" 
stock;  alias  "Mr.  Cecil"  as  his  Uncle-the  solicitor-insisted  on 
calling  h.m  to  tb^  ordinary  "trash"  of  the  office;  alias  a  champion 
cyclist;  alias  the  boasted  offspring  of  a  Persian  Princess  by  his 
mothers  side;  alias  a  "saved"  Plymouth  Brother  attending  at 
Merrion   Hall,    Dublin. 

The   Courts   where    B blundered    now   know   him 

no  more; 
Wild  geese,  he  so  many  times  missed,  miss  him  sore; 
This  side-shoot  of  Henry  takes  here  his  long  rest ; 
While    lands,    al!.j,ed    ancestors    lorded    are    blest. 
R.  I.   P.   "Mister   Cecil."     Your  bike-scorching   past— 
The  scorching  you'll  now  get  forever  will  last. 

But  Bagdad  is  dreary.     A  prince  of  its  blood. 
From  feeding  on  others  has  here  become  food: 
"A  child  of  mine  dead !    Which?    Who  was  its  ma 
"Of  the  loves  in  my  harem?"  loud  queries  the  Shah. 
Yet,  silent  to  him— to  aaint  Gabriel's  call 
These   bones    will    croak:     "Saved   Lord-at    Merrion 
Hall." 


THE  POET'S  EPITAPH 

While  suffering  from  a  visitation  of  boils  that  confined  him 
to  his  room  for  some  days,  the  Author  sent  the  following  verses 
to  his  fellow  lodgers,  to  account  for  his  absence  from  the  festive 
board: 

Come  here  aspiring  youth  and  learn 

What  weapon  Death  will  use, 
When  he  sees  fit  to  overturn 

A  follower  of  the  Muse; 
Poor  rhyming  Currie  chanced  to  cross 

His  pathway,  cold  and  bleak, 
Death  straightway  aimed  and  felled  him  with— 

A  boil  upon  his  cheek. 

[  \29  ] 


EPIGRAMS    ON    VARIOUS    OCCASIONS. 


\  f 


•  l'    t 


i.li  !! 


WONDERS   OF   AMERICA. 

"What  is  that?"   said  Pat  in  wonder, 
As  we  entered  New  York  Bay; 

And  the  sunset  gun  was  booming 
Out   the    close   of   dying   day. 

"That's  the  sunset,"  said  a  traveler, 
Who  had  heard  it  peal  before,  ' 

And  who  thought  the  Celtic  stranger 
Could   discern  a  cannon's   roar. 

"Well  bedad!  that  bates  ould  Ireland, 
^^  And  the  divil  too,"  said  Pat; 
"Who'd  a  thunk  the  sun  could  settle 
With  a  thunderin'  thud  like  that?" 

THE  EDITORS  WERE  DENSE. 

He   was  a   wag  of  great   renown, 

His  words  with  brilliance  shone, 
His  sweetheart  said  e'en  London  town 

Such  wit  ne'er  looked  upon. 
But  yet  while  friends  his  praises  sang. 

Or  aped  his  subtle  vein. 
His  jokes  were  like  a  boomerang— 

They  all  came  back  again. 

HIS  REASONS  WERE  "LUMINOUS." 

Smith:     Come  up  to  the   match   on  the   diamond   mr 

f  nend  ? 
.rones:     If  it  were  not  so  misty,  I  would 
bmith:     But   why   should   mere   mist   such   a   pleasure 

suspend  ? 
Jones:     Because  a  damp  match  is  no  good. 

[  133  ] 


l^ 


NOT    CONCISE    ENOUGH. 

On  hearing  a  tittle  man  refer  to  his  large  wife  as  his  "better 
half." 

Your  "better  half"  say  you?    Well,  that  takes  the  cake' 
For  telling  the  truth  you'll  not  rank  among  martyrs. 

To  your  wife,  sir,  and  quick  an  apology  make : 
According  tc  weight,  she's  your  "better  three-quar 
ters." 


THE   STRANGE  ADVERTISEMENT. 

Of  a   lady   who   dealt  in   second-hand   wearing  apparel. 

Miss  Smith,  knowing  wealth  on  economy  based. 
Has  now  "left-oflf"  clothing  to  suit  every  taste!! 

IN    ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

Of  a  pair  of  shoes  received  as  a  ^rting  gift  from  a  friend. 

Dear  Lamble,  accept  a  bard's  most  grateful  thanks; 

A  verse  for  your  kindness  his  muse  is  commandiiip 
Your  gift  with  a  gift  from  Divinity  ranks; 

From  you — happy  boast — he  received  understandii.^^ 

A  TOAST. 

Here's  a  health  to  the  men  who  do  things, 

To  the  men  who  are  unafraid ; 
To  the  men  who  in  spite  of  barriers 

Have      >nquered  the  frowning  shade. 
YeSj  here's  to  the  men  who  do  things, 

May  their  number  never  grow  less ; 
For  on  them  alone  we  are  forced  to  own 

Dependeth  the  world's  success. 


[  134] 


)etter 

tyrs. 
luar 


REFLECTIONS     ON     THE     YANKEE     SPANKO 

WAR. 

Thif  wir  wa.   precipitated  by   the   blowing  up   (accidentally   or 
otherwise)    of    the    U     S     War    sm„   "m         ..    :""-'-'"'"""y  o^ 

harbor  o.  Havana^^.t^-thrroi.e^r-  Santil  "o.  "T^^ 
0,e  most  considerable  engagement,  during  the  war,  a  mule  only 
.a,   lolled,   according   to   the   Spanish   des,«,ches   to    Madrid 

Though  'tis  said  Uncle  Sam  sheer  brute  strength  does 
abhor, 

it  was  by  main  force  he  won  in  his  late  Spanish  war; 
i'or  despite  the  Armada,  historic  of  Spain 
Spain's  one  great,  weak  spot  was  exposed  on  the  ma!„ 
Not  the  mane  of  the  mule  that  was  killed,  by  the  way- 
That  s  not  what  I  mane/'  as  friend  Patrick  would  say- 
Hut  to  sum  up  the  matter,  men  say  in  the  main  ■ 
That  the  Maine  was  the  reason  why  Sammy  whipped 
Spam. 


nd. 

:s; 
[inft 


PROFESSIONAL  COURTESIES. 
"Doctor."  said  a  legal  light 
^^  To  his   friend  of  pills  and  plasters, 
"Count  yourself  a  lucky  wight. 

Being  saved   from  earned   disasters. 
Thank  your  stars  that,  ere  they're  found. 

Dictor's   'bulls'  go  underground." 

'Right  you  are,"  exclaimed  the  Doc, 
"Medicine  beats  law  to  pieces: 

For,  though  it  is  only  talk 
That  a  lawyer's   wealth  increases: 

Still  his  errors  cause  some  care, 
Dangling  as  they  do  'in  air.'" 


r  135  ] 


CHRISTIAN  CHARITY. 

In  the  year  1898  a  Run,  calling  himMlf  de  Rougemont,  cauKcd 
it  to  he  advertiMd  that  he  had  come  through,  ai  a  very  truth, 
experiences  tnat  would  have  done  credit  to  Gulliver  and  must 
have  made  Baron  Munchausen  turn  over  in  hi*  grave.  Un- 
fortunately, however,  inquiry  put  a  new  light  on  the  itory  and 
Monsieur  de  Rougemont,  disap(>eared  into  even  greater  obscurity 
than   that    from   which    he   had   appe'.  ed. 

The  Lord  gave  f!-    !<<  ••{iemont  to  us, 
Until  people  his  aio-y  had  heard ; 

Then  the  Lord  took  him  out  of  the  fuss — 
So  blest  be  the  name  of  the  Lord. 


FELINE  PHILOSOPHY. 

^    vas  musing  one  day  in  the  old-fashioned  way, 

Trying  hard  to  commune  with  my  fate; 
While,  side  me  there  sat  a  purring  old  cat, 

In  a  quiet  and  dignified  state : 
"What,"  says  I,  while  stroking  my  feline  friend's  coat, 

"Is  the  acme  of  all  that  is  nice?" 
When,  judge  my  surprise  as  from  pussy's  black  throat. 

Came  the  answer  quite  audibly — "mice." 

Dear,  dear !  how  absurd !  thought  I  with  a  smile ; 

I  must  surely  be  dreaming  to-day; 
A  cat  cannot  talk;  to  think  so  is  vile! 

And  puss  purred  her  monotonous  lay: 
Then  in  rev'rie  again,  "Is  there  nought  to  attain, 

Without  'gaging  worlds  in  our  spats?" 
When  distinct  as  before,  from  her  seat  on  the  floor, 

Grimalkin  looked  up  and  said  "rats." 


136  ] 


BABEL  SUBSTITUTED. 

In  Montreal,  Canada,  an  Ice  Palace  uied  to  be  constructed 
every  other  winter  ag  the  grand  attraction  of  a  Winter  Carnival. 
The  lite  of  the  palace  was  Dominion  Square,  around  which  many 
of  the  molt  beautiful  churchei,  for  which  the  city  ii  noted,  are 
cluitered. 

Sinner  attend !     This  icy  pile  is  where   you  ought  to 

dwell; 
For,  while  the  churches  that  surround  may  warn  you 

out  of  h — 1 ; 
Yet  once  within  these  snowy  walls,  you  certainly  would 

learn, 
That  all  the  brimstone   Nick  might  send  could  hardlr 

make  you  burn. 

DUTY  TO  THE  DEATfi. 

Thii  verse  wai  called  forth  by  the  non-arrival  of  a  holiday 
niiniber  of  "The  Builder,"  a  magazine  in  which  views  of  Dublin 
architecture  were  the  attraction  and  which  paper  had  been 
"posted"  to  the  author  as  a  present,   but  never  received. 

Alas!  what  a  pity!  "The  Builder"  is  gone. 

Now   Celtic  construction   instructs  the  unknown. 

On  a  monument  over  its  "picturesque"  ghost 

As  its  due  should  be  written:  '  'Twas  lost  at  its  post." 


BREVITY  IS  THE  SOUL  OF  WIT.* 

There  once  was  a  slug, 

Crept  into  plugged  lug, 

Of  the  captain  of  "Scions  of   Eve;" 

But  the  Cap  with  a  poke, 

Caught  on  to  the  joke, 

And  slugs  laugh  but  once  at  the  deaf. 

'NOTE — For  a  different  meaning  to  this  epigram  add  the 
sniirwl  "er"  fr.  the  short  lines  and  "i!"  to  the  long  linen.  This 
is  somewhat  far-fetched  but  is  a  suggestion  to  more  patient 
jokers  of  what  might  be  done  with  the  English  language. 

[  137  ] 


IN  A  SONG  BOOK 

Presented  to  a  dear,  little  lady  friend. 

Some  people  are  always  bemoaning  their  fate 
And  wailing  the  luck  that  seems  always  too  late . 
But  let  us  be  wise  and  set  worries  a-winging: 
Since   life    must    be    lived,    why    not    live    through    it 
singing  ? 

SMOKING  IS  CATCHING. 

That  smoking  is  catching  has  now  become  plain; 
The  maids  who  most  often  touch  lips  with  the  men, 
Have  caught  the  contagion  attached  to  their  pets, 
And  now  the  ^oor  creatures  must  smoke  cigarettes. 

THEIR  YANKEE-DOODLE-DO. 

When  loss  of  dower  unties  the  string 

Of   titled   dudes   who   woo; 
Some  Yankee  maids  first  learn  to   sing 

Their  Yankee  dude  'ill  do. 


SO  NEAR  AND  YET  SO  FAR. 

That  New  York  policeman  and  Florida  fleas. 
Have  one  trait  in  common  the  country  agrees; 
When  anxious  to  find  them,  despite  all  your  panting. 
It's  certain  as  Fate,  you'll  find  both  to  be  wanting! 

LET  THERE  BE  LIGHT. 

A  woman's  wealth  of  borrowed  hair, 

And    pulpit   hiding   hat, 
Has  oft  inspired  the  Christian's  prayer: 

As  at  her  back  he  sat. 

r  138] 


h    it 


nen, 
ttes. 


HOW  TIMES   HAVE  CHANGED. 

The  poets  have  sung  that  in  days  of  the  past, 

While  Dian,  a  maiden  divine, 
Was  dipping  her  person  so  buxom  and  chaste, 

In  billows  of   feathery  brine. 
One,  Actaeon,  sawr  her  and  for  his  offense. 

Was  suddenly  changed  to  a  stag; 
Which  straightway,  to  add  to  his  horror  intense, 

Was  devoured  by  a  favorite  dog. 

The  tale  has  its  weak  points,  all  critics  confess. 

For  why  should  Diana  be  mad; 
Either  women  have  changed  or  her  sea-bathing  dress 

Must  have  fitted  her  awfully  bad. 
Were  latter-day  maidens  in  taking  their  bath. 

And  a  man  happened  by  so  sedate, 
As  not  to  look  at  them,  they'd  deem  him  in  wrath 

More  worthy  of  Actaeon's  fate. 


ng- 


POETS  WILL  UNDERSTAND. 

The  modern  poet's  passion  wail — 

His  daily  jars  and  frets- 
Soon  cease  when  each  returning  mail 
Brings   "Editor's  regrets,"  etc. 

TECHNICAL   TERMS. 

The  man  who  holds  a  lady's  hand 

Nor  squeezes  it  enough, 
Said  Nellie  to  her  newest  friend, 

We  ladies  call   "a  muff." 


But  when  a  man  with  manly  art. 
And  squeeze  and  kiss  and  throe. 

Essays  to  shoot  sweet  Cupid's  dart: 
That  man  we  call  "a  bow." 


139  ] 


'\ 


BRITAIN'S  ORACLE. 

When  John  Bull's  asked  to  tell  his  views 

On  any  weighty  question: 
He  dares  not  risk  his  name  to  lose 

By  making  weak   suggestion ; 
But  quick  his  countrymen  he  mimes 

And  quotes  a  column  from  "The  Times." 


A  LADY'S   POCKET. 

While  the  fair  one's  hand  is  roving, 

With  a  touch  so  light  and  loving, 

Feeling   for  ,the   fleeting  pocket   where  her   ready 

money  lies: 
Lo!  a  thief  has  seen  it  yawning, 
Like  a  rent  within  an  awning. 
And  before  her  fingers  get  there  he  has  robbed  it 

of  its  prize. 


PADEREWSKI   AGAIN. 

Jf  the  "striking"  reforms  of  the  Socialist  host 
We  with  musical  touches  compare, 

We'll  find  that  a  leader  of  these  is  "Herr  Most' 
While  the  leader  of  those  is  "Most  hair." 


SUB-DUDE. 

What  did  the  dude  become,  my  dear, 
Who  wed  the  maid  he  wooed? 
Why,  George,  said  she,  the  reason's  clear! 
The  dude  became  subdued. 


140  ] 


%. 


THE    THOUGHTS 

Of  a   young   lady   whose   lover's   name    was    "Knight." 

Oh  come,  sweet  Knight,  and  light  my  darkened  day; 

For  day  .s  night  when  thou  my  knight  art  gone. 
While  night  is  day  if  gilded  by  the  ray 

Of  thee,  my  Knight,  whose  coming  is  the  dawn. 

LUCK  IN  ODD  NUMBERS. 

Said  the  highwayman  out  on  the  road. 
As  his  gun  waked  the  coach  from  its  slumbers, 

And  he  reaped  wheresoever  he  strode: 
"Without  doubt  there  is  luck  in  awed  numbers." 

QUITE  LIBERAL  BUT  ! 


"That  I'm  open  to  conviction 

"Is  gospel  truth,"  said  he; 
"But  the  man  who  can  convince  me 

"Is  the  man   I   want  to  see." 

IT  NEEDS  EDUCATING. 

Gilhooly  was   testing  his   writing   machine. 

With  fingers  on  keys  and  distress  in  his  mien ; 

"By  the  powers,"  said  he,  "this  invention's  no  good- 

"Though  it  prints  like  a  book,  it  don't  spell  as  it  should." 


EVOLUTION. 

Impressions  on  first  hearing  a  sermon  by  Dr.  Parker,  the  famous 
London  Divine. 

The  art  of  acting  has  become 

So  very  much  the  rage; 
That  now  to  send  its  message  hom.e. 

The  pulpit  apes  the  stage. 

[  141  ] 


% -A   t 


EVEN  MASONS   MAY  BE  MEAN. 

In  :nemory  of  unmasonic  treatment  received  at  the  hands  of 
a  Tyler  and  Secretary  at  the  Masonic  Temple,  on  Moleswortb 
Street,    Dublin. 

There  are  sheep  of  blackest  hue 

In  the  midst  of  every  riock; 
Where,  to  give  old  Nick  his  due, 

Their  dark  coats  relieve  the  stock. 
In  each  walk  of  worldly  life 

Good  and  bad  extremes  are  seen : 
Angels  once  caused   heavenly   strife : 

Even  Masons  may  be  mean. 


■«;'    1 


AN     IRISH     TRAMP'S     APOLOGY     TO     LONG- 
FELLOW. 

In  happy  homes  he  saw  the  light. 

Of  household  fires  gleam  warm  and  bright. 

Beyond  a  smoky  lantern  shone; 

And  from  his  lips  escaped  a  groan: 

The   Workhouse ! 


I    I 


WOMEN  HAVE  NO  RIGHTS. 

Away  with  your  doctrine  that  woman  has  right; 
The  great  men  of  England  have  scouted  it  quite ; 
Her  feminine  folly  has  so  much  enraged 
That    from   the   King's  commons*   frail    woman   is 
caged. 

•Whoever  has  been  in  the  House  of  Commons  at  Westminster 
will  remember  that  the  ladies'  gallery  is  at  the  very  top  of  the 
building  and  a  sort  of  iron  wicker  work  keeps  the  fair  sex  from 
seeing  any  more  than  is  absolutely  necessary — for  what  particular 
reason  the  authorities  know  best. 


142 


PRACTICAL    POETRY. 

"The  first  position  I  obuined  in  Dublin,  Ireland,  was  assistant 
foreman  in  a  soap  factory."  assistant 

A    wandering    bard    to    Dublin    came 
Filled  with  reformer's  hope; 

The  natives  prized  his  lofty  aim, 
And  set  him  making  soap. 

THE  POET'S  PLAINT. 
Rhyme  like  a  punster  dissipates  all  mighty  thought 
And  trams  majestic  Pegasus  to  sprightly  trot 
How  can  one  hope  to  soar  to  dim  celestial  height 
If  he  must  see  his  end  before  he  starts  his  flight? 
And  yet,  this  paradox  I'm  sorry  to  admit. 
When  blank  verse  is  my  task  unconsciously  I  fit 
Rhyme  to  each  measured  line,  despite  contrary  care 
Until  my  mighty  thoughts  flit  from  me  in  despair. 

WITH  A  BOX  OF  CHOCOLATES. 

As  an  acknowledgment  of  a  bouquet  of  flowers  from  a  lady. 

Sweet,  take  these  sweets;  and  may  their  sweetness  be- 
bweet  as  the  sweetness  of  your  smiles  to  me 
1  II  he  content  if  in  their  taste  lie  powers 
To  prove  me  grateful    for  your  gift  of'  flowers. 

*NOT  DROWNED-BUT  POISONED. 

A  corpse,  in  Dublin's  river  drowned, 

When   rescued   in  a  giffey— 
The   verdict   that  the  jury   found. 

Was:   Poisoned  in  the  Liflfey. 

Fre^SIl7i^!!l"lZ  ''  "  ^°'''  *''*'  "^  ""'^  eigbt-year-old  friend, 
i-reddie  Ca.rns.  told   me  with   "difficult  pains."  I  saw  the  ooin 

■•Wre'   L^f::"'  f"^.'^'"'r-«^^  -»  omy  it  but  the  .uota  1 
r,ver'Lefo::.-rut°hor:^""   -as.uerading  under   the   name   of   a 

f  143  ] 


nmir  i^a 


-    ^^ 


AN  ESSAY  ON   "KANE." 

About  the  time  this  epigram  was  written,  the  Grand  Mastci 
of  the  Orange  Order,  a  very  important  institution  in  the  North 
of  Ireland,  was  Dr.  Kane.  If  the  reader  is  an  Orangeman,  the 
last  line  should  be  read  not  spoken;  but  if  an  anti-Orangeman, 
it  should  be  spoken  not  read.  In  this  way  the  author  hopes  ii 
accommodate   himself   to   two  very   opposite   opinions. 

Cayenne  is  a  kind  of  red  pepper; 

And  cane  is  a  sugary  weed; 
And  Cain  was  a  strong  moral  leper: — 

But  Kane  was  as  Abel,  indeed. 

TO  A  LITTLE  FRIEND. 

On  the  blank  leaf  of  a  "Santa  Claus"  Book. 

If  you'ld  be  happy  then  agree 

With  God  and  all  his  laws; 
Since,  but  for  Him,  there  would  not  l)e 

A  kind  old  Santa  Claus. 

TO  ANOTHER  LITTLE  FRIEND. 

Prolong  to  years  your  baby  hours ; 

Keep  youthful  while  you  can; 
For  childish  prattle  wieldeth  powers 

When  wiser  talk  is  vain. 


i  . 


POLITICS  IN  BRITISH  COLUMBIA. 

Cotton,  Kitchen  and  Brown  were  in  the  Opposition  benches 
of  the  House  of  Assembly  in  the  Spring  of  189S.  The  following 
was  published  in  a  Government  newspaper  on  the  eve  of  .i 
provincial   election : 

Though  the  weather  is  still 
Rather  sloppy   and  chill, 
The  time  for  House-cleaning  is  nigh; 
When  we'll   wash   Kitchen's  down ; 
Scour  and  bleach  what  is  Brown ; 
And  hang  out  soiled  Cotton  to  dry. 

f  144  ] 


Mastc-i 
Nortl! 
in,  the 
jeman 
ipes  t I 


enclies 

lowiiiK 

of    a 


OSCULATION 

Ai    described    by    a    female    practitioner. 

A  kiss  is  a  something  of  strangest  device 
It's  made  out  of  nothing,  but,  oh  my!  it's  nice. 

A  HINT. 

Fond    maiden   be    warned;    keep   a   guard   o'er   your 

charms ; 
Nor  throw  yourself  into  the  saintliest  arms; 
When  love  comes  unbidden,  it  wakes  man's  mistrust: 
Rash  impulse  excites  not  his  love— but  his  lust. 

WORDS   TO   THE  WISE. 

Boys  take  what's  to  spare 

Of  the  kisses  girls  share 

With  ev'ry  Tom,  Richard  and  Harry; 

But  mark  you,  my  dears: 

Such  bliss  turns  to  tears: 

It's  the  maid  that's  least  kissed  that  men  marry. 

CONSISTENT    SPELLING. 

There  once  was  a  donee  bought  a  calf 
Which  he  tried  hard  to  gied  with  a  st^.lf 
But  the  beast  would  nought  deign 
To  heed  sweign,  ceign  or  peign 
Which  made  e'en  stade  bystanders  lalf. 


FACTS  FROM  AFAR. 

So  fierce  the  heat  'neath  Tropic  skies, 
When  night  its  cap  has  doffed; 

Folks  have  to  feed  their  hens  on  ice 
To  get  their  eggs  boiled  soft. 


[  145  1 


B  p*- 


;,|.,^' 


I     L 


I  f  w 


A  RULE  FOR  EPIGRAMS. 

When  epigrams  are  written  so 
That  grossness  seems  the  poet's  foe, 
The  nearer  danger  comes  the  hit 
The  more  side  splitting  is  the  wit. 

AND    HE    STILL    WONDERS. 

Wonderingly  enquired  the  guest : 
"Birds-nest  pudding!  what  bird  fixed  it?" 

Haughtily  said  she  addressed: 
"Sir,  it  were  the  cook  'oo  mixed  it." 

SHE  HAD  EATEN  OF  THE  FORBIDDEN  FRUIT. 

An  incident  of  married   felicity. 

"Turn   on   your   other   side,   my    dear," 

Said  he  with   sleepy  sneeze, 
"I'd  like  the  scent  of  onions  changed 

To  hair-oil,  if  you  please." 

BEFORE  HIS  HONOR. 

What  is  your  business?  said  the  Judge; 
A  Broker,  sir ;  — A  Broker,  fudge ! 
You  are  a  tramp  from  outside  view 
How  can  you  be  a  broker,  too? 
Well,  judge,  that's  just  my  little  joke 
Ain't  I  a  broker  when  I'm  broke?" 

A  TIME  FOR  EVERYTHING. 

A  Glasgow  employer  found  fault  with  his  clerk 

For  coming  too  often  unshaven  to  work: 

Says  he,  "W.^ie  for  clerical  labor  I  pay 

I  will  not  have  clerks  growing  whiskers  all  day. 

I  mean  them  to  work  when  to  office  they  come: 

If  beard  you  must  have,  you  must  grow  it  at  home." 

r  146] 


UIT. 


A  REPLY. 

To  a  fellow-lodger  in  Ireland  on  hi>  complaining  that  the 
maid  had  neglected  to  rinse  hia  v.ash  hand  basin.  The  word 
"digs"  IS  the  slang  term  for  lodgings  throughout  the  British 
Isles. 

Be  wise,  man!    No  longer  such  worries  rehearse; 
You  ought  to  thank  heaven  that  things  are  no  worse. 
Men   should  not  expect  spotless  basins  in  "digs" 
Where  those  who  must  clean  them  were  reared  among 
pigs. 

A  CONUNDRUM. 

An   acrostic,    pinned    to    the    pillow   of   a    roommate    not   long 
parted  from  his  fiancee,   in  Bonnie  Scotia. 

Enveloped   in   blankets  here  Willie  reclines; 
Long  into  the  midnight  he  lies  and  repines; 
Susceptible  much  to  the  charms  of  the  fair 
Perhaps  some  sweet  lassie— too  often  man's  care- 
Excites  and  compels  him  to  pining  and  prayer. 
Too  true,  'tis  a  lass  keeps  his  eyelids  aflame:— 
Herein,  if  you  look,  you'll  discover  her  name. 


ame. 


TO  A  LADY  TEACHER 

In  the  Indian  Mission  School  at  Sitka,  .Alaska,  on  the  eve  of 
her  marriage  to  a  friend   oi   the  author,  named   Millmore. 

Here's  to  the  sly  rascal,  who,  to  suit  his  ambition, 
Has  with  sorrow  so  stricken  the  folks  at  the  Mission, 
And  good  health  to  the  lady  he  met  to  adore, 
And  at  last  to  convert  into  Mrs.  Millmore. 

Not  prepared  to  draw  wrath  from  a  man  who  could 

dare 
To  aspire  to  the  love  of  a  person  so  fair, 
I  close  by  desiring  no  care  shall  annnv 
Their  sojourn  together  through  long  years   of  joy. 

[  147  ] 


I     i 


WITH   A   CHRISTMAS   PRESENT 
To  a  jroung  lady  uaually  known  by  the  nickname  of  "Ned." 

As  Christmas  was  coming,  it  ran  through  my  head 
I  ought  to  send  something  to  dear  little  Ned. 
But  what  could  I  send  her  ?    Ah !  that  made  me  shiver, 
For  gifts  should  be  pleasing  and  plead  for  the  giver. 
I  pondered  and  ponder'd  on  that  fact  intent, 
Till  sudden  it  struck  me — I'll  send  her  some  scent, 
So  that  when  o'er  presents  she  muses  alone, 
She'll  mix  up  my  mem'ry  with  Eau  de  Cologne. 

WRITTEN  BY  REQUEST 

Of  a  lady  who,  for  attention  to  an  acquaintance  during  sick- 
neat,  was  the  recipient  from  that  acquaintance  of  a  dozen  glasses 
and  a  poetical  letter  of  gratitude. 

If  ever  a  lady  had  cause  for  elation, 

I  now  have,  I  say  without  hesitation, 

For  having  just  tried  life's  true  pathway  to  climb 

I'm  honored  with  presents,  kind  wishes  and  rhyme. 

Many  thanks  for  your  friendship  and  wishes  so  fair. 

Nor  mention  my  trifling  attention  and  care; 

I  did  but  my  duty,  to  help  make  amends 

For  your  being  disabled  so  far  from  your  friends. 

And  again,  many  thanks  for  the  glasses  so  rare 
(With  which  you  have  coupled  those  wishes  so  fair). 
May  each  draught  ever  quaffed  from  each  glass  but  be 
A  toast  to  your  health  and  your  prosperity. 

WITH  A  PRESENT 

To  a  lady  in  whose  house  I  used  to  reside  while  in  Lindsay,  Ont. 

If  there's  aught  I  dislike,  it  is  being  ungrateful 
For  kind  little  offices  strangers  may  do; 

So  I  think  that  it  would  be  both,  heartless  and  hateful. 
To  not  own  the  debt  that  I  owe  Mrs.  Trew. 

[  148] 


's. 


d." 


iver, 
er. 


When  sick  and  in  trouble,  alone  and   dejected, 
She  ministered  unto  my  every  need ; 

And  showed  to  me  kindness  so  little  expected, 
It  cannot  but  make  me  feel  grateful  indeed. 

Accept  this  small  gift,  Mrs.  Trew,  as  a  token, 
To  prove  the  confession  above  is   sincere; 

And  may  it  be  pledge  of  a  friendship  unbroken, 
To  follow  and  bless  us  through  each  coming  year. 


sick- 
lasses 


■me. 
fair, 


air), 
ut  be 


,  Ont. 


ON  A  XMAS  CARD  TO  FATHER. 

Christmas  bells  their  chimes  are  ringing, 
And  the  world,  on  pleasure  bent. 

Of  its  joys  are  loudly  singing. 
Filled  with  glee  and  merriment. 

Voices  mingling,  sleighbells  jingling, 
Everywhere  with  gladsome  sound; 

Hearts  are  lighter,  hopes  are  brighter, 
Christmas  has  once  more  come  round. 

With  this  card  and  earnest  greeting. 

Full  of  filial  wish    from  me. 
Father  dear,  may  Christmas   lavish 

Stores  of  joy  and  bliss  on  thee. 

WITH    A     BIRTHDAY     PRESENT     (OF    SOME 
PRESSED   FLOWERS). 

Dear  Laura,  to  show  the  undying  good  wishes 
That  Cupid  awakes  in  those  caught  in  his  meshes. 
Let  me  hope  that  this  day   mid  your  life's  many  hours 
May  be  like  a  rose  in  a  garden  of  flowers. 


teful. 


r  149  ] 


-:  * 


r    f 


ON  A  STAMP  ALBUM. 

Purchatcd  from  the  author  at  an  accommodation,  by  t  friend. 

As  through  this  world  your  way  you  push, 

May  you  be  always  just  as  "flush," 

As  when,  with  open  ready  hand, 

You  helped  a  "broke,"  but  honest,  friend. 

TO  MR.  AND   MRS.   MARKLEY, 

With  a  S-o'clock  china  tea  service  on  the  30th  anniversary  .<f 
their  wedding. 

For  twenty  years,  through  rain  aiid  shine. 

And  ev'ry  sort  of  weather. 
You've  plodded  up  Life's  steep  incline. 

And   faced   its   foes  together. 

By  word  and  deed  you've  sown  good  seed; 

And  now  around  you  spreading, 
The  harvest  lies  for  you  to  prize. 

On  this  your  china  wedding. 

May  Peace  and  Plenty,  sov'reign  pair. 

Still  strive  your  lot  to  lighten ; 
May    sunny   smile   of   offspring    fair 

Your   home   life   ever   brighten. 

And  with  this  gift  (which,  you  will  see. 

Quite   selfishly  was  chosen) 
Make  many  a  rousing  cup  of  tea, 

And   pledge  your  loving  cousin. 

KATY  ON   "DUDES" 

"Your  pet  names  are   awfully  good" 
(Said  gentleman  John,  as  he  wooed) 

"But  Katy,  my  queen, 

"State  just  what  you  mean, 
"When  you  call  me  your  dandiest  dude." 
[  150] 


rieti'l 


»ry  til 


Then,  with  smile  that  outrivalled  the  dawn. 
Said  cold,  cruel  Katy  to  John : 

"A  dude  is  a  thing, 

"That  girls  get  in   Spring, 
"To  hang  a  chrysanthemum  on." 

TO  A  YOUNG  LADY 

Who  wa«  confined  to  her  room  with  a  very  bad  attack  of  boiit. 
Of  envious  Fate  these  lines  I  write, 

Nor  care  I  for  her  favor; 
She  placed  my  loved  one  in  a  pli(>ht, 
Nor  reached  a  hand  to  save  lur. 

The  jealous  hussy  saw  the  bliss 

I  sipped  from  Celia's  smiles; 
And  that  same  hour,  to  show  her  power, 

She  pestered  her  with  boils. 

But  never  mind,  my  day  will  come,— 

Revenge  is  always  double; 
And  when  it  does,  how  very  rum, 

If  boils  should  be  Fate's  trouble. 


WRONG   END   TO. 

"Oh  lend  me  a  spade," 

Cried  Patrick  O'Dade, 

As  before  me  he  breathlessly  stood; 

'Tim  Doyle  in  a  flutter 

"Fell    into   the  gutter, 

"And  is  up  to  his  ankles  in  mud." 

But  you  don't  need  a  spade 

When  your  partner  can  wade. 

Said  I,  almost  ready  to  burst. 

"Sure,  how  can  he  wade," 

Pat    gasped    undismayed, 

"When  he's  up  to  his  ankles  head  first?" 

[  151  ] 


1 


I 


i 

It 


Mm 


WHAT'S  IN  A  NAME? 

They  may  call  her  ancient  maid; 

Intimate  her   stale  and   staid; 

And  apply  some  other  terms  e'en  more  distressing. 

But  consult  her  tale  of  woe; 

And  you  very  soon   shall  know, 

That  she's  just  an  "unappropriated  blessing." 

WHIST!     HAVE  YOU  EVER  BEEN  EUCHRED? 

What    matters    if    from    heaven    above 

She  borrows  every  grace? 
No  wife  can  hope  for  perfect  love, 

Who  trumps  her  partner's  ace. 

EDITORIAL   DUTIES. 

The  mailboy  a  letter  did  bring; 
Around  which  sweet  savors  did  cling; 

He  opened  it  quick — 

Grew   suddenly   sick — 
'Twas  only  a  poem  on  Sprii  - 

AT  SEA. 

If  you  across  the  deep  should  roam, 
You'll  feel  upon  the  flashing  foam — 
When  first  the  billows  roll  and  roar — 
A  fear  of  never  reaching  shore; 
But  later  on  you'll  groaning  think : 
Oh  won't  this   vessel  ever   sink? 

SHE  WAS  ON  A  BIKE. 

A  streak  of  light — a  vision   fair— 

A  rapid  rumbling  whirl — 
A  figure  vanishing  in  air — 

It  was  a  Summer  Girl. 


[  152  J 


THE  FORCE  OF  HABIT 

Throughout  the  British  Isles  a  solicitor's  charge  for  attendance 
.s  sx  shillings  and  eight  pence.  That  amount,  therefore,  is  the 
most  frequent  .ten,  on  a  lawyer's  bill  of  costs.  A  pound,  by- 
the-way.  is  a  gold  coin  valued  at  twenty  shillings. 

A  lawyer,  'tis  said,  in  a  fit  of  abstraction. 
Once  swallowed  a  pound-then  regretted  his  action- 
But  vain  were  emetics,  for  sad  to  relate- 
To  custom  warped  stomach  still  clung  "six  and  eight." 

LOVE  DEFINED. 

"What  is  love,  did  you  say?" 

Said  a  sage  growing  grey 

In  the  study  of  man  and  his  ills; 

"The   complaint,   when   all's    heard. 

Is  a  youth's  wish  absurd 

To  pay  a  girl's  dressmaker  bills." 

WHAT   MAY   HAPPEN 

When    our    army   is    recruited    from    suffragettes. 

"Where,"  queried  the  Captain,  "is  Private  O'Grade?" 
■'Confined  in  the  guardroom,"  quoth  Corporal  Cade. 
Uh  then  shes  been  drinking;   where  last  was  she 
dined?" 

"You-re  wrong,  sir,"  said  Cade,  "it's  with  twins  she's 
confined." 


ON  THE  BACK 

Of  a   perpetual   calendar  and   almanac.   Jan.    ;th,    '86. 

This   almanac  will  tell  the  time. 
Long   after   I   have  ceased   to   rhyme. 
But  may  I  still  be  known  to  fame 
When  it  no  longer  has  a   name. 

[  153  ] 


"-    iS 


5  ■ 


IRISH    HOSPITALITY. 

I've  wandered  long  both  near  and   far, 
On  foot,  on  horse,  by  boat  and  car; 
I've  supped  with  cvVy  class  and  clan, 
From   highest  state   to  lowest  ban; 
But   on   my   ever-varying    round. 
This  wholesome  truth   I've  always  found. 
To  stranger  guest  there's  nought  so  free  ' 
As   Irish   hospitality. 

LINES 

Written    afl.r    reading    Carlyle's    "Heroes    and    Hero    Worsl,,,, 
To  thee,  oh  God,  this  prayer   I  makr ; 
Oh  grant  it  for  Thy  mercy's  sake: 
For  all  my  tasks  and  labors  here, 
Give  me  a  will  and  heart  sincere. 

AN  UNFORl  U.VATE 'S  LAME.VT. 
Alas !  Alas !  my  case  is  sad  indeed 
The  thoughts  of  what  I  a.n  would  make  a  martyr  bleed 
1  hat  I  am  lost,  unless  I  quick  r.  form, 
But  makes  me   worse  by  heightening  my  alarm 
My  conscience  warns,  hut  woe.  alas !  my  will 
Is  powerless  to  act  where  passion  leads  me  still. 

MODEST  BUT   SINCERE. 
Though  many  men  of  hallowed  name 

Have  raised  their  tuneful   lyre, 
And  to  its  tune  have  courted  fame 

With  poet's  zeal  and  tire; 

Vet  while  such  clmose  ihc  titful  muse 
To  make  their  lives  seem  brighter; 

I'll  be  content,   with  Fp.te's  consent. 
To  be  a  short-hand  writer. 

[  154  ] 


fc?.i^R!f«fS?.SSWBF-! 


IN  MY  DIARY. 

This  book  is  a  mirror  whose  leaves  retain 
Impressions  received  from  my  heart  and  brain; 
When  other  friends  tire  at  my  tale  sincere 
I  always  am  welcome  to  tell  it  here. 

A  RULE 

For  advanced   pu,.ils   in    Isaac    Pitman's   shorthand. 
When  the  -f-r-  and  "ith-r"  together  close  come 

'Lm"  '^'  *''°  ^^"  "''  grammalogue 

But  should  the  two  ,o«„ds  by  a   vowel   W  divided, 
Ltt  the  curve  by  the  grammalogue  "for''  be  decided. 

ADVICE  TO  BOOKKEEPERS. 
If  you-ld  please  your  "bosses"  and  save  yourself  oains 
Vou-11  debit  their  losses  and  credit  their  gains 

0.\E  VIEW   OF   LIFE. 

The  world  is  a  wide  barren  waste, 

Full  of  misery,  want  and  despair  • 
Its   inm..tes   are  travellers   spen     with   unrest, 

i"or  hfe  is  the  burden  they  bear. 

THERE    IS    .\0    WORLD 

There  is  no  world,  I  know  alas  too  well  ■ 
\\e  either   sing  i„    Heaven   or  groan   in   Hell. 

CREATURES  OF  CIRCUMSTAXCE. 

Though  Worth  may  seem  much  strength  to  lend. 
Un   Fortune  most  our  hopes  depend, 
Things   of  the  moment  are  we  all:' 
By  chance  we  rise,  or  stand,  or  fall. 

f  155  ] 


Vi'smm^m^firi 


'  iHi 


bJI 


%:■'■ 


\,. 


MISPLACED   MERCY 

Let  no  tender  feelings  when  battling  with  Passion 
Incline  one  to  leave  the  grim  monster  half  sped, 

For  us,  if  he  rallies,  he  makes  no  concession 
But  feasts  on  our  vitals  until  we  are  dead. 


I 


PROVIDENCE. 

As  Time's  great  cogs  are  slowly  turning 
And  youthful  hours  are  fleeting  by, 

The  goals  for  which  our  hearts  are  yearning 
Seem  to  retreat  at  cv'ry  sigb. 

And  while,  with  hurried  step  pursuing. 
Sometimes  we  stumble  on  our  road. 

Impatiently  our   ill   luck   rueing,— 
Behold !   we   find   'twas   for  our   good. 

Thus  God  our   way  is  ever  guiding, 
And  when  we  least  believe  Him  near, 

Lo,  for  our  future  bliss  providing, 
Mid  dark  despair  His  ends  appear. 

INFINITY. 

A  thousand  years  are  but  an  hour 
To  Him  who  rules  the  spheres : 

And  one  short  hour  to  that   same  power 
Contains  a  thousand  years. 


liA 


IMMEDIATE  DESIRE. 

Though  the  consequence  sometimes  arouses  the  will, 
And  quenches  grim  Passion's  fierce  fire; 

Yet  the  fear  of  the  future  too  often  fares  ill, 
In  the  rush  of  immediate  desire. 

[  156  ] 


ivy;* 


'rismm, 


^^tT^T^iT^^ 


ssion 
sped, 
n 


ing 


APPEARANCES  ARE  DECEPTIVE. 

caned  attention  r  the  h  nous  off  :i  T^"'  'r'"'  "-'""'"^'^ 
bare  in  the  receiving  office Thife  "gageH  ^  "ii^t  ""  '"'* 
upstairs,  the  f.,ll„wiM«  lines  were  concXd  as  a  „„H  '^'''*""^' 
to    l,e    handed    to    would-be    clients,    w    .       '  ht    be     LT'"':' 

Take  notice  all  ye!  whom  'tis  needful  to  please: 
Ihaf  when  you  make  entry  hereto- 

^^''T'!!!'"."!''  "^'''^"  "'■"  ^"J°y'"«  Wank  ease. 

And  the  disks  have  no  papers  in   view- 
It  is   not  because  paying  clients  are   rare  • 

Nor  that  little  business  here  lurks  • 
We've  a  typist  above  working  hard  for  your  love- 
Wot  to  meMion  two  real  busy  clerks. 


PUBLIC  ECONOMY. 

While    residing    in    Leicester,    England     it    was    .h-    ,   .u     . 

Azr"?::;'^th:  d^  'ir-^  ^-r.:'.^^^  -r,: 

but  tha    it  can   be  uke„   nn       "'""'•""  ""''''   "«''*  ""  d°"'>'- 
^.^^^  can   be  taken   up   wrong   ,s  shown    by   the   following 

A  Female  Asylum!  well  that  is  a  wonder' 

One  httle  step  further  would  prove  men  grown  wise- 

•ace  near  this  a  nice  Male  Asylum-then  ponder 
What  numbers  of   Infant  Asylums  might  rise 


will, 


A  TRIFLE  SHY  AS  YET. 

"Sweet  dreams   Oh  My  Darling."  a  new  woman  sang. 
As  she  stood  'neath  the  bower  of  her  love- 

grVser'"^'    "'"'"^    '"*^    ^""    ^°°*'''''''    '''""'"^ 
When  his  mama  looked  out  from  above. 

[  157  ] 


md 


mill- 


■•  W 


THE  BABY'S  AVERSION  TO  BLOOMERS. 

Oh  mama,  dear,  since  fashion  brought 

Those  bloomers  into  style, 
My     ncient  trusty  seat  is   fraught 

With  dangers  that  beguile. 
Upon  your  lap  no  dreadful  trap, 

Disturbed  my  early  mien ; 
But  now  I  dare  not  take  a  nap 

For  fear  I'll  slip  between. 


SHE  LOVED  WISELY  BUT  NOT  TOO  WELL. 

An   epicure  husband  grown  thoughtful   one  day. 

Enquired  from  the  wife  of  his  heart : 
"Since  some  kinds  of  mushrooms  are  poison  they  say, 

How  best  can  we  tell  them  apart?" 
Then  said  she  who  had  promised  to  love  and  obey 

With  a  new  woman  wink  in  her  eye, 
"By  eating  the  mushrooms  you'll  find  a  sure  way, 

They  are  poisonous,  dear,   if  you  die." 

A  PASSING  IDEAL. 

Oh,  dear  to  my  heart  is  the  girl  of  my  childhood. 
Whose  limbs  in  vile  bloomers  no  loafer  could  trace ; 

Whose   hair   was   unbleached    and    who    wandered    the 
wildwood 
Not  marred  and  unsexed  by  a  bicycle  face. 


AN   IRONICAL   ESCORT. 

"It's  too  bad  to  bring  you  so  far  from  your  way ; 

I'm  sure  I'm  obliged,"  lisped  the  maid. 
"Don't  mention  the  distance,  nor  thank  me,  I  pray, 

I'd  as  soon  see  you  further, "  he  said. 

f  158  ] 


RS. 


IN   THE   SOUP. 

In  latter  days  the  beardless  boy 

Who  wants  to  cut  a  dash, 
Deludes  himself  that  such  a  joy 

Must   follow  a  moustache. 
But  take  advice,  unwhiskered  youth, 

Nor  tempt  the  graceful   droop; 
For  soon  alas  you'll  prove  this  truth : 

It's  always  in  the  soup. 


ELL. 

I'. 

ey  say, 

obey 


)od, 
race ; 

ed    tl:t 


'ay; 
pray 


WOMAN. 

Spite  of  all  his  vaunted  greatness. 
And  his  large  expansive  mind; 

I'or  a  peer,  e'en  though  he's  mate'less, 
Man  need  not  go  far  to  find. 

Woman,    yes   despotic   woman. 
Makes  him  do  whate'er  she  wills; 

And  that  she  the  more  may  rule  him. 
Hides  her  power  in  frips  and  frills! 

FOR  SCRIPTURAL  REASONS. 
Said  Mama  to  the  Dean, 
Whom  she  caught  hugging  Jean, 

"How  dare  you  treat  Jennie  so  rude?" 
"Christian   sister,"  said  he. 
As  devout  as  could  be, 

"I'm  holding  fast  that  which  is  good." 

LET   THE  HORSES    DECIDE. 

This   fuss  about   wimmin-folks   ridin'   astride 

Seems  a  very  unchivalrous  trick- 
U  hat   matter  to  man   how  the   dear  creatures   ride. 

so  long  as  the  horses  don't  kick? 

[  159  J 


■ .     .1' 


PRESENCE   OF   MIND. 

Once  a  man  close  pursued, 
By  a  bear,  sable-hued, 

Seemed  in  danger  of  losing  his  life; 
For  he  had  on  the  field 
Neither  pistol   nor  shield, 

No:  u  club,  nor  a  stone,  nor  a  knife. 

But  when  all  thought  him  lost, 
To  old  Bruin's  sad  cost, 

The  man  in  a  trice  turned  about — 
Thrust  his  hand  down  its  throat — 
Caught  its  tail  ere  it  smote — 

And  pulled  the  bear  inward  side  oat. 

TO  A  LANDLADY  ON  HER  BIRTHDAY. 

May  all   your    sorrows,  cares   and    strife, 
And  all  your  many  troubles. 

When  close  examined,  prove  to  be 
But  little  empty  bubbles. 

Rejoice  and  sing  with  heartfelt  glee 

Some  pleasant  joyous  tune 
On  this  your  yearly  jubilee. 

The  twenty-ninth  of  June. 

And  may  you  still  with  woman's  skill 

Each  boarder's  life  beguile; 
Nought  makes  them  half  so  happy  as 

The   Mrs.'  cheerful  smile. 


I:  mm  i= 


A  COUPLET 

Handed  to  a  confrere  in  a  newspaper  office  who  had  facetiously 
passed  an  exchange  called  "Knowledge"  to  the  author  with  in- 
structions to  get  all  he  could  from  it. 

You  are  a  generous  man   indeed, 

To  give  away  what  most  you  need. 

[  160  ] 


Y. 
fe, 


;etiously 
with  in- 


ON  A   CHRISTMAS   CARD 

To  a  former  landlady.   Mr,.   J.   Thurst.,,,   Smith,   at  that   timt 
rrsid.ng    on    Torrance    Street,    Montreal. 

Though  I'm  far  from  Torrance  Street 
And  the  friends  that  there  reside, 

Fortune  holds  my  weary  feet, 
And  all  homeward  movements  chide. 

Yet  I'm  con-f  rted  by  knowing 
That  their  friendship  is  no  myth; 

And  a  token  of  that  knowledge 
Is  this  card  to  Mrs.  Smith. 

TO  A  FRIEND  OX  HIS  36th  BIRTHDAY. 

Old  Friend,  although  I  can't  portend 

What  birthday  hopes  may  do, 
Yet,  in  good  faith,  I  glad  extend 

These  hopes  sincere  to  you: 

You  now  have  reached  a  time  in  life 

That  laughs  at  foolish  fears, 
A  point,  that   sages  wise   might  call. 

The  noontide  of  your  years. 

I  therefore  need  not  wish  you'll  be 

Exempt  from  evil  sway; 
You  sure  won't  step  from  Wisdom's  knee 

To  follow  Fashion's  way. 

But  may  you   scale   Ambition's   height— 

That  longed  for  spot  so  dear, 
That  peak  that  in  man's  morning  bright 

Stands  out  so  full  and  clear. 


[  161  ] 


Mii 


ill* 


May  Comfort,  too,  her  mantle  warm 
Across  your  shoulders  throw 

May   Pleasure  lavish   every  charm 
And  ward   from  every  woe. 

And  when,  at  last,  old  age  has  changed 
Your  locks  to  flowing  white, 

May  life  with  sunset  beauties  crowned 
Fade  off  in  peaceful  night. 


i-i  . 


ON  AN  XMAS  CARD 

To  a  fellow-metnber  of  a  literary  society  called  "The  Roscoe. 

Here's  to  the  dear  friend  I  consider  my  best; 

Without  him  I  fear  I'd  be  lost,  oh! 
His  worth  I  have  often  put  hard  to  the  test. 

By  pressing  him  close  in  the  Roscoe. 

I  like  him,  because  he  is  honest  and  true; 

Because  by  ill  winds  he's  not  tost,  oh! 
Because  he  is  one  of  the  well-favored  few 

Belonging  to  famous  old  Roscoe. 

It's  Milligan,  upright  and  just,  that  I  mean; 

And  when  o'er  his  body  shall  moss  grow ; 
High  up  on  his  tomb  this  one  line  should  be  seen : 

"Here  lies  the  best  man  in  the  Roscoe." 

WHAT  IS  "IT?"     A  CONUNDRUM. 

Though  Dea*h  knows  it  not  yet  all  Life  feels  its  spell ; 
'Tis  a  stranger  to  heaven  hut  common  in  he//; 
And  yet  strange  to  say  it  is  absent  from  heat; 
While  cc/d,  when  without  it,  is  quite  incomplete. 
Watery  wastes  will  not  hold  it;  dry  /and  shows  it  plain: 
It's  a  part  of  a  /ady  mere  man  can't  contain : 


r  162  ] 


Miss  Large  whom  I  know  in  the  front  has  this  part; 
It  s  behind  on  Miss  Small  in  spite  of  her  art ; 
Mrs.  Lya/  who  is  stout,  fore  and  aft,  has  my  ri-ldle- 
And  bashful  Miss  Wa/es  has  it  hid  in  the  middle 
But  while  each  girl  has  it,  whether  wished  for  or  not  • 
Poor  Po//y.  my  sweetheart,  has  it  twice  in  one  spot 


Roscoe." 
est; 

St, 


TO   TOM   ROSEBLADE 

With   a   Wedding  Present. 

Dear  Tom,  please  accept  this  small  gift  from  a  friend 
for  with  it  good  wishes  I  also  do  send; 
May  you  be  so  well  pleased  with  your  wife  aid  your  lot 
That  you'll  never  be  sorry  for  "tying  the  knot." 

May  the  pleasures  of  life  o'er  your  pathway  be  spread, 
And  may  long  years  of  comfort  roll  over  your  head 
And  when  little  Roseblades  come  round  you  to  woiry 
Call  one  of  them  after  your  railroad  friend  Currie 


1 ; 


seen : 


spell 


:  plain : 


LINES  INSCRIBED. 

a  Z^J'"^U  !"'  1"  T  °'  S»"^'^"P«»^«*»  work,  present..!  as 
a   parting  gift  to   a   friend. 

If  you  would  know  your  fellow-man, 
Or  close  his  helpmeet  woman  scan,  ' 
Here  turn  your  gaze ;  for  in  these  hooks 
Are  shown  the  foibles,  whims  and  crooks. 
The  good  and  ill,  the  hope  and  fear. 
That  through  these  lives  of  ours  appear. 
Bear  well  in  mind  what  Shakespeare  says, 
And  you  will  thank  him  all  your  days. 


i 


[  163  ] 


mm 


mmmmmim 


MICROCOPY   RESOIUTION   TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


tai2.8 

1^ 

1^ 

S  KS 

m 

1.8 


^    /APPLIED  IN/MGE    Ir 


1653  East  Main  Street 

Rochester.   New  York        14609      USA 

(716)   *62  -0300-  Phone 

(716)   288-  5989  -  Fox 


\   1 


XMAS  GREETINGS  ON  THE  BACK  OF  A 
PHOTOGRAPH. 

H  one  you'ld  view 
Who  wishes  you 
A    merry    Christmas    tide, 
With  health  and  cheer 
Through   all    next  year: 
Turn  to  the  other  side. 


HOW  LIFE  IS   PUNCTUATED. 

This  was  written  for  a  typewriting  friend  who  had  occasionally 
striven  to  enlighten  the  author  in  the  trick  of  punctuat'ng.  It 
was   an   acrostic   otj   the   name   of   the   typewriter's   sweetheart. 

Life  is  but  a  page  of  sorrow, 
f'nderscored   with  grief  and  woe; 
Leisure  moments  are  its  commas 
L'^sed  each  breathing  place  to  show; 
//opeful  half  hours,  like  the  periods. 
Only  here  and  there  are  found; 
W^hile  its  hours  of  bliss  still   scarcer, 
£'en  as  paragraphs   abound. 

THE  CURE  FOR  ALL  ILLS. 

A   reminiscence   of   railroading   days. 

Though    the    drivers    are    skidded,    or    scorched    the 

crown-sheet ; 
Though    the    journals    and    big-ends   are    ruined   with 

heat; 
Though  the  staybolts  are  leaking,  the  flues  all  worn  out ; 
Though  the  engine's  a  scrap  heap  without  any  doubt : 
Like  the  old  wife  who  doses  all  patients  with  pills; 
Our  Master  Mechanic  has  one  cure  for  all  ills: 
In  the   roundhouse  he  carefully  notes   each  complaint 
And  prescribes  for  all  ailments  a  new  coat  of  paint. 

[  164] 


A  ROLLING  STONE. 

That  a  rolling  stone  gathers  no  moss 
Is  a  truth  that  all  ramblers  will  learn ; 

But  while  it  escapes  from  the  dross- 
It  gets  polished  at  every  turn. 


ionally 
ig.  It 
sart. 


A  EUCHRE  PLAYER'S  SOLILOQUY 

On   her  lover,    whose   name   was   Arthur   Hart,   and    who   was 
sometimes  called   "Art"  for  short. 

I'm  feeling  gay  and  glad  at  heart, 
I  have  a  hand  of  unmatched  art; 
For  hearts  are  trump  and  I've  a  Hart, 
That,  though  not  played  quite  a  la  carte. 
Yet  takes  each  trick— then  makes  me  start: 
Because  when  played  'tis  still  my  Hart. 
Oh  Art!     Fond  artless  Art!     Thou  art 
My  Hart,  My  Deer!     My  dear,  Dear  Heart. 


I    the 

with 

1  out; 

ubt: 

lills; 


plaint 
aint. 


[  165  ] 


m 


TENDERFEET  IN  ALASKA 


OR 


SCARED  BY  MINER'S  YARNS 


A  MUSICAL  COMEDY 
IN  FOUR  ACTS 


It 


< ,  ■■■, 
=  :■! 


CHARACTERS. 

Theodore  Spoopendike,  a  New  York  dude,  who  be- 
heves  he  has  but  to  go  to  Klondike  and  his  superior 
attainments  will  give  him  great  advantage  over  ordi- 
nary illiterate  miners.  He  is  tall  and  thin,  conceited, 
credulous,  dense,  somewhat  religious,  and  brave  only 
when  it  is  to  maintain  his  idea  of  his  own  superior- 
ity. It  takes  him  some  time  to  discover  that  "the 
lower  classes"  are  not  always  overwhelmed  wit'i  the 
honor  of  his  company.  Amenable  to  the  most  bare- 
faced flattery,  ridiculously  uninformed  about  the 
ordinary  things  of  life.  It  is  only  in  matters  of 
dress  that  he  is  without  a  peer. 

Tommy  Tompkins,  his  valet,  who  is  intensely  practical 
A  short,  supple  cockney,  somewhat  modified  by 
travel.  A  type  that  makes  friends  everywhere- 
spunky,  able  to  do  anything  from  sing  a  song  to 
lighting  a  hre;  and  who  finally  gets  all  there  is  in 
"the  Expedition  to  Klondike." 

Willoughby,  alias  the  Deacon,  alias  Dick,  an  old-time 
miner.  He  is  tall  and  dignified,  with  a  grey  mous- 
tache and  pointed  goatee,  and  speaks  as  though  butter 
would  not  melt  in  his  mouth  when  talking  to 
strangers.  He  never  smiles,  although  an  incorrigible 
practical  joker.  The  ease  with  which  he  is  won  by 
Aunt  Jemima  shows  how  scarce  women  are  in 
Alaska. 

Snow,  alias  the  Colonel,  alias  George,  alias  the  trage- 
dian, a  frequent  combination  in  Alaska.  Mercurial 
m  disposition,  medium  sized,  clean  shaven,  well  edu- 
cated, and  a  good  mimic.  His  stories  are  always 
»ff,  ^^\  correct  dialect.  An  old-time  miner  and 
WiUoughby's  partner. 

Slim^  Jim,  dho  a  very  comr  .n  type  in  a  mining  camp. 
A  typical  daredevil  Western  saloon-keeper— blunt 
coarse,  swaggering,  a  very  terror  to  conceit,  who 
IS  spare  and  gaurt  looking,  swears  like  a  trooper  and 
chews  tobacco  incessantly. 

Captain  Rudlin,  a  fat,  round-faced  old  sea  dog,  with  a 
muffler  of  white  hair  reaching  under  his  chin  from 
ear  to  ear.    The  essence  of  kindness  and  good  nature. 

[  169  ] 


\(- 


In.  'i^ 


(i 


Isabel  Lovejoy,  in  love  with  Theodore.  A  sentimental 
butterfly  creature  from  Boston— just  such  a  one  a; 
would  fall  in  love  with  a  Theodore. 

Aunt  Jemima,  a  New  England  woman  who  looks  an( 
acts  like  an  interrogation  point.  Tall,  somewhai 
deaf,  ver\  practical,  and  talks  noticeably  through  hei 
nose.     Isabel's  Chaperon. 

Starlitz,  below  medium  height,  stout,  goodlooking,  easilj 
captivated,  like  all  Alaska  native  women,  and  alsc 
like  her  race,  a  trifle  bowlegged,  which  adds  to  tin 
comedy  of  her  dancing. 

Miners,  Sailors,   Waiters,   Tourists  and  Indians. 


ACT  I— ALL  ABOARD  FOR  KLONDIKE. 

Scene  1 — Tne  Captain's  Cabin  on  board  ship. 
Scene  2 — The  Social  Room. 
Scene  3 — The   Dining  Room. 
Scene  4 — On  Deck  at  Wharf. 

ACT  II— AMONG  THE  PHILISTINES. 

Scene  1 — Slim  Jim's  Saloon  at  Juneau. 
Scene  2— Dance  Hall  off  Saloon. 

ACT  III— STILL  AMONG  PHILISTINES. 

Scene  1 — In  Woods  near  Juneau. 
Scene  2 — Shore  near  Juneau. 
Scene  3— Willoughby's  Camp. 

ACT  IV— EN  ROUTE  FOR  HOME. 

Scene  1— Shore  of  Takoo  Inlet. 
Scene  2— Theodore's   Camp. 
Scene  3 — Back  on  Board  Ship. 


[  170] 


timental, 
I  one  as 

oks  and 
unewhat 
•ugh  her 

g,  easily 
ind  also 
s  to  the 


KE. 


ES. 


ACT  I~ALL  ABOARD   FOR  KLONDIKE. 
Scene  I. 
Captain  Rudlin— (Discovered  in  easy  posture  in  his 

t?/!!""*'  R^^'^'^-  ,  ^*'"  «°°"  ^«  at  Juneau. 

Willoughby— Can't  be  thar  any  too  soon  for  me  Cao 
I  m  anxious  to  get  back  with  the  boys  ag'in.  I  ain't 
used  to  the  stuckup  ways  of  your  starched  front  city 
lite.    Uive  me  a  good  rousui'  camp  everytime 

lasl"  Dea"c"^n?°*  '°"*^  '"  '*  ''""  ^°"  ^"^  ^'^  '^"«<^° 
IViUoughby-mgh  on  to  thirty  years.  Cap.     I  don't 
beheve  I  ve  been  so  fur  south  since  the  sixties.     I  re- 
member gomg  to   winter   thar   just   after   the   second 

from 'th^e'^nM^f  •*'"'"">  •'"^  ^''^  P'^"  had  changed  so 
from  the  old   free  and  easy  days  that   I   never  went 

.ntnl"^'I~J  *^°-'*  H**"*  y°"'  ^^^*^-  A  man  who  has 
spent  his  dap  m  the  mountains  is  something  like  a 
sailor  he  aint  no  account  in  a  town  anyhow.  He's  dead 
Rohin^nJr'f.' '^''  reckoning,  and  before  he  can  say  Jack 

SLJ  a  .nnH^'%''*^^"?,/?^'-^^^^  '^  unless  he's 
married.     A  good   wife   will   keep  any   man   straight 

crowdT         '"'"•  '^^'''  ^°  ^°"  ^'^'"'^  °*  th«  KloXe 

IVilloughby-Moths.   Cap;-a   ship   load   of    feather- 

weights-and  they'll  leave  the  Land  of  the  Mfdnight 

trJ"  U  ^^*r°."'l!''  ''""^  *i*l^  their  wings  terHbly 
(  \u  \T-^  "^9"  t  have  some  blizzards  of  misery  be- 
fore the  Winter's  out.  I'll  sell  old  "Yellow  Bdfy''  for 
weerit's  mV  lfj/'^^'^.<i  .^^000  for  the  S  last 
week.  Its  my  candid  conviction  thar  ain't  ten  men  " 
mn''T.cLT*^'  ^^'^'^  *heir  grubstake.  Why  eJer. 
Whoever  he.rT  7""  gaiters  and  ^  standup"^  collar 
vvno  ever  heard  of  a  man  with  his  head  and  feet  in 
corals  expectm'  to  pan  out  gold?  But  the  boys  will  have 
S  '':°''  °"*  °^  *hem  at  all  events  even  f  they  do 
thelrVaT  *°  ''"*  "^  '^'  ''''^  *°  ^^"^  them  home  to 
honeffitrt?^'  "J?'    ^hat  do  you  think  of  the  young 

mfoZ't  T'J^iri^''  ''J'P  *'*h  the  valet,  I  mean ? 

yymougHby—A   milk.sop   from   away  back     He'll   he 
an  ornament  to  the  diggins.   If  it  wasn't  for  his  clothes 

[  171  ] 


M.rt» 


% 


and  that  same  little  valet,  he'd  fall  to  pieces.  I 
been  havin'  my  after  dinner  lau^h  at  him  every  i 
since  we  left  the  Sound.  Why,  jt  was  only  today 
asked  me  if  I  put  any  stock  in  that  story  about  < 
frozen  city  being  inhabited — you've  heard  the  yai 
'bout  the  frozen  city  and    lie  floating  island,  haven't  yc 

Captain — That  1  have.  Ha!  ha!  Some  of  Mii 
iJruce's  guff,  when  he  got  among  some  too  credulc 
newspaper  men,  ha !  ha !  

Willougliby — Well,  you  see  the  swell  has  got  hold 
the  stories,  and  can  credit  everything  but  the  inhabit; 
part  of  the  frozen  city.  He  h'.s  a  theory,  he  sa 
that  the  floating  island  is  the  same  one — don't  > 
know — seen  by  a  great  explorer  of  the  last  centu 
named  Gulliver^^^on't  you  know — "  but  he  can"', 
count  for  frozen  people  being  alive 

Captain — And  what  did  -ou  say,  Dick?  I'll  warr; 
you  kept  ut>  your  reputation.     Ha !  ha !  ha ! 

IVilloughby — He  didn't  prove  anything  by  me,  C 
You  can  bet  your  bottom  dollar  on  that.  I  told  hii: 
was  with  Bruce  at  the  time  he  saw  the  phenomena. 

Captain — Ha!    ha!    And   did   you   say  he   would 
likely  to  see  it  himself  on  his  v/ay  to  Klondike? 

Willoughby — No,  Cap.  I  try  never  to  volunteer  a 
information  to  strangers,  it  looks  too  much  like  lyi 
I  simply  used  the  old  dodge  of  answering  all  his  qu 
tions  in  the  affirmative.  You  see  it's  professional  hoi 
with  us  miners  not  .o  have  any  person  'eave  the  coun 
disappointed.  Now  it  stands  to  reason  that  if  a  ni 
finds  out  something  he  has  read  is  not  according 
Hoyle,  it  has  a  tendency  in  that  direction. 

Captain — Ha !  ha !  I  like  that  expression  "professioi 
honor,"  Deacon.  It  covers  a  multitude  of  practi 
jokes  and  some  of  the  toughest  yarns  I've  ever  hea 
I  suppose  you  would  call  the  "Salting"  of  the  Bea 
Nest  professional  honor  tc^  That  was  a  scurvy  tri 
Dick.  No  matter  how  you  look  at  it.  The  idea 
inducing  those  German  capitalists  to  sink  a  million 
a  plant  and  impiovements  only  to  find,  when  they  ca 
to  use  them,  that  tY  ^  whole  thing  was  a  hoax.  That  v 
going  too  far — too  far  altogether.  As  the  Irishrn 
says  "Oi  can  take  a  j ok  as  well  as  any  man,  but  wh 
an  undhertaker  comes  io  my  back  window  and  sinj 
'Oim  waitin',  my  darlinf,  for  thee,'  that's  going  too  fa 

IVilloughby — No ;  that  wasn't  square,  I'll  admit.  I 
the  man  who  had  most  to  do  with  the  Bear's  N 
swindle  was  no  common  land  lubber  but  a  man  of  yc 
profession.   You  know  who  I  meanP   If  he    hadn't  h 

[  172  ] 


i 


a  r  interest  in  the  claim  no  one  else  -ould  have 
procured  so  much  unmilled  ore  from  Trtadwell's  Any- 
way. I  serves  the  German  Company  right  fo  i^ndhL 
up  uch  a  greeny  as  an  expert.  Any  fool  should  havf 
",mdt  a  rat  when  the  rock  came  out  of  the  bosus  shaft 
w.th  so  little  trouble.  But  it's  the  way  o.  the  wo^'^ 
No  man.  be  he  rich  or  poor;  young  or  old ;  mossback 
or  tenderfoot;  educated  or  uneducated  can  DrooeHv 
reah.e  a  truth  till  he's  been  bitten.  The  only  difteTence 
betwee.i  men.  ,n  my  opinion-you  can  take  it  for  what 

zr.::X:r. ''''  °"^  ^°°>  '^^^  '^^  ^-  his' exp°:ri:;c^i 

^,".t''^'"--Jruc,  oh  king.     Ha!  ha! 
t  fllouyhby-\ow.   Cap.   if    I    was  the   hard-hearted 
villain  you  take  me  for.  I  might  have  had  a  fing"  in 
a  uorse  o>e  than  the  Bear's  Nest      Ust  Spring  I  U^ 

Li/""  f-T.r  ^"8"^''  Syndicate  enclosfng  !  vrH 
pectus  winch  they  wanted  me  to  report  on  before  thev 

sS?h  of  VTr?.k  P.i;°f  ^='  ''  ^^  formed  on'te 
•iml  ft V^f  nil    V^?"^  'u^'  prospectus  through,  Cap. 

who  wrote  it  tid't  7^f  ?^"  imagination  the  man 
WHO  wrote  it  had.  It  told  about  an  Eldon  do  beina 
discovered  that  put  Treadwell's  in  the  shade  It  tSd 
how   Western   capitalists   had   at   once   bought   un   tne 

site  iiearb}.  at  a  fabulous  expense.  It  told  ot  a  river 
.e.ng  dammed   for  power  and  of  ev.rjSiing  bHnc  fn 

le  t'L;  of  i7'l/^'  "^f  °SPO""di"«  ouTloId    Ve 
nest  pa,,  of  it  all  was,  that  the    ocation  was  so  rnr,. 
fully  desc.:hed  that  by  the  holy  smoke  I  had  to  go  and 
ook   to   convince    myself    it    wasn't    so.      Tha?   was    a 
sna.l  stream  thar.  to  be  sure,  but  that  was  all 

<.*;lf_&-,- ?,'  4;?'-  ■"  N'jw  York? 

»',vdv  Vt  I  "","  '"'""  '."''«  '°  •><>  about  ''■ 

!„if  .  \:"'"'y  "cuse  this  communication  from  a  strancror 

I:aIs^'J'rv\"S,  ^:tT.f  ^''^  ->;,-",.  Theore,\:s"aTn 
dike    It   c   -^"1"^  Steamer  for  Alaska,  enroute  for  Klon- 

mvsel     £t'he  tak'eslhislt''^  "i^'^^^  f  i^'^  mother  and 
"lai  ne  takes  this  step  and  we  feel  confident  that 

[  173  ] 


f  AMi 


\  i 


■ 


I  111 


he  is  unable  to  undertake  the  fatigue  necessary  to  i 
successful    carryinflt   out    of    his    visionary    project, 
have  been  making  him  an  allowance  of  $10,OUO  a  y 
(which  1  thought  ample  for  the  ordmary  expenses 
a  young  man  23  years  old),   but   he   uisjsts   upon 
being  a  niggardly  allotment  and  wilfully  disobeyed 
express  commands  in  order  to  materially  increase 
income.     He  has  been  used  to  society  life  and  as 
only   heir   has   been   flattered   into  believing  himseli 
person   of   extraordinary   attainments.     His   mother 
not  strong  and  is  worrying  herself  to  such  an  ext 
that  I  feel  constrained  to  offer  you  anything  in  rea 
if  you  can  succeed  in  inducing  the  boy  to  forego 

absurd  plans.  .      •    .•  i  . 

"Trusting  that  this  letter  may  arrive  in  time  and  t 
you  will  prove  more  persuasive  with  the  young  ii 
than  those  who  have  his  best  interests  at  heart,  in  sj 
of  his  disobedience,  I  am,  etc.   Theodore  Spoopendyl 

Captain— h  ain't  a  question  of  money,  you  see. 
mother  wired  before  1  left  the  Sound  to  spare  no 
pense  in  the  matter  but  to  send  her  boy  home  safe  at 
hazards.     I've   reasoned   with  the  young  man,  but 
found  out  I  was  authorized  by  his  father  and  so  tin 
that  all  1  say  is  a  put-up  job. 

Willougltby—l  can  understand  that,  too,  because 
been  painting  the  country  up  to  him  in  the  most  i 
hue.     H  you  had  told  me  earlier.  Cap,  la  have  sci 
him  from  ever  leaving  the  ship. 

Captain— I  believe  you,  Dick.  It  would  not  be 
first  youth  you've  scared  out  of  a  year's  growth  — - 
you  always  look  so  serious  that  not  a  one  r  il 
suspects  you.  But  I  thought  to  let  this  o  .e  do^n  < 
and  when  I  found  his  sweetheart  was  aboard  a 
tourist,  I  imagined  I  could  bribe  her  i..to  doing  so 
thing  with  him.  But  she's  just  his  fit  to  a  nice 
another  edition  of  himself  in  feminine  garb— an 
have  given  up  hopes  in  her  direction.  She  means  a 
but  doesn't  know  enough  to  pound  sand. 

Willoughby— Has  he  much  of  an  outfit? 

Captain— An  outfit.  Well  I  say  he  has.  There  r 
be  a  ton  of  stuflf  aboard  that  he  calls  outfit  and  i 
itself  is  proof  sufficient  of  his  utter  ignorance  of 
condition  that  awaits:  him.  ,  .     ,     ,      ... 

JVilLughby—WaW,  since  thar's  a  fair  days  pickii 
it  I'll  undertake  to  have  the  kid  back  with  you  on  : 
return  trip  helow— valet,  outfit,  and  all.  In  the  m 
time  you  cheer  him  up,  set  him  on  to  me  ofthand 
as  an  experienced  miner,  and  leave  the  rest  to  y 

[  174] 


ary  to  the 

iroject.      I 

XX)  a  year 

cpenses  of 

i  upuii   u- 

jbeyeU  t:  y 

icrease  I.h 

itid  as  ii:\ 

himself  a 

mother   i^ 

an  extc.it 

in  reason 

forego  Ills 

te  and  that 
roung  man 
irt,  in  spite 
opendykf ■ 
i  see.  The 
are  no  ex- 
:  safe  at  all 
an,  but  he 
d  so  thinks 

ecause  I  ve 

most  rosy 

lave  scared 

not  be  the 
3Wth  — And 
le   c     iheni 

do  An  easy 
board  as  a 
loing  soine- 

a  nicety— 
arb— and  I 
means  well, 


There  must  g 
it  and  it  in  I  i 
ance  of  the 

's  pickin'  in 
^•ou  on  your 
1  the  mean- 
oflfhand-like 
:st  to  y-r.fs 


ea"  "^  Ctn      We'tT"       ^"*   *!'.'^   ^'"^'^   leering  to  th. 

on  h1'S"earT;'';tMnn  rD?acon"^*\^;'^  '"'"-■.   «« 
hin.  sit  at  ^,>^abIe  amrwin^mrodu  e^Je'^Xc^^therV 

(Exeunt  talking). 
Scene  II. 

Theedy,  dear,  do  you  love  me?  >''^^"^^r) 

su/h'^'res^int'''  ""'  '^"'•"«'  ^°-  -"  •        awsk  mc 

Jf!!^'~^   *^°"«^*   y^'"   ^''''   Theedy,   since  you   have 
told  n     so,  so  many  times;  But    iear   Ho  n^*  k 
hpr;iii««i  .  !»•>»»  »_  L.     '"^'''  "'**■!  jear,  do  not  be  anirrv 

/Jte    S""  '£  ""J'"'''  of  this  ship.         '^  ' 

clawling.     Lr  your  sTke  hl^°/°\^  thousand  favors, 
the  gold-fipi;u    v«c  "^^^  ^  determined  to  go  to 

s„!rs/-^*odSr..' ana " '"'  -  'i^' 

niav  possibly  awsk  "  °"  ^'''"  ^"^  ^^^^^  yo" 

wh:?Yt;^;J,^-tp7arof°7  h?"'^-^''^;.'^  ^-^ 

Ri>dlin  that  I  wou  d  use  n,v  i.fl   ^""^  Promised  Captain 
going  to  KlonZe  ^  >nfluence  to  keep  you  from 

Ru^fn  thrSr.'?he"'/f '^''  '*/t"°*  ^'^  l'"*  Captain 
wno  wants  the  favor  and  I  am  quite  sure  his 

r  175  ] 


m' 

If  f 


desire  comes  from  my  fawther,  whose  beastly  in 
significant  allowance  of  $10,000  a  year  to  a  gentlema 
of  my  many  needs,  don't  you  know,  has  kept  us  apai 
so  long.  No,  indeed,  I  will  stand  it  no  longer  I  wi 
go  to  the  mines  and  with  my  superior  attainments 
will  only  be  a  few  short  weeks  before  I  will  be  bac 
to  lead  you  to  the  altar,  and  then,  don't  you  know,  w 
shall  live  happy  ever  after. 
Isabel— (Who  in  her  admiration  forgets  her  request 

How    nice ! 

Theodore— Yes,  dawling.  Why  it  was  only  the  otht 
day  1  read  about  a  menial  fellow— an  Irishman,  don 
you  know — whose  hair  was  red  as  a  beet,  the  papt 
said,— and  who  like  as  not  chewed  tobacco,  ate  onioi 
and  all  sorts  of  other  vulgar  things,  don't  you  know 
and  this  creature,  would  you  believe  it,  actually  mac 
$75,000  in  one  Winter.  Now  dawling,  with  these  fac 
in  mind  is  it  not  probable  that  with  my  accomplishmen 
and  aristocratic  breeding  I  can  do  ten  times  better  tlia 
that,  to  say  the  least? 

Isabel— 01  course  you  can,  Theedy.  How  jolly  it  wi 
be  to  do  nothing  all  day  but  just  pick  up  gold.  Sa 
Theedy,  wouldn't  it  be  nice  if  1  went  along.  I  lia\ 
my  bloomers.  I  brought  them  to  climb  the  mountain 
you  know,  and  we  could  telegraph  for  a  bicycle  bui 
for  two  as  soon  as  we  pet  ashore. 

Theodore— But,  dawling,  don't  you  know  these  min( 
are  in  a  Bwitish  country  and  there  would  be  a  douh 
duty  on  a  bicycle  of  that  kind. 

Isabel — How  wise  you  are,  Theedy.  Isn't  it  funny 
never  thought  of  that — and  Aunt  Jemima  wouldn't  he: 
of  me  going  anyway.  But,  Theedy  dear,  must  I  wa 
all  Winter  for  you? 

Theodore— ^ot  if   I  know  it,  dawling.     I   have  pn 
vided   against  every  hazard.     I   have  even   procured 
valet  who  was  born  in  London  to  speak  the — ah — tli 
lect  of  the  Bwitishers,  so  that  I  think  a  month  at  tl 
most  will  see  me  back  to  your  loving  arms. 

Isabel — How  nice  ! 

Theodore— Yes,  dawling,  as  I  said  before,  I  have  nia( 
a  careful  study  of  the  matter.  Indeed  I  spent  two  who 
afternoons  makmg  inquiries,  don't  you  know,  in  ord 
that  we  may  not  be  apart  one  moment  longer  than 
necessary.  I  have  even  purchased  one  of  those  ca: 
registers  so  that  I  may  know  when  I  have  enouj 
without  having  to  take  time  to  count  it. 

Isabel— Oh,  Theedy,  you  are  so  wise.    Is  it  any  wo 

[  176  ] 


der  that  I  lovt  you.  But,  Theedy  dear,  the  Caotain 
said  It  was  cold  in  the  Klondike  ^piam 

^/'f'^^^f'-'J-yes,  dawling,  I  found  that  out  while  read- 
ing al.out  the  frozen  city,  and  so  I  have  as  a  part  of  my 
outht  a  gas  stove  htted  up  with  a  heating  drum  and 
all  modern  improvements. 

Isabel-Do  you  know,  Theedy  dear,  whenever  I  think 
hovv  wise  you  are,  I  wonder  if  you  ever  take  anything  to 
cool  your  brain.  I  read  in  the  Ladies  Home  Joufnal 
once  that  cold  water  applied  to  the  foreheads  of  men 
who  think  a  lot  has  a  soothing  effect,  and  when  we  are 
married  I  am  going  to  put  some  on  you.     Can  I,  dear.' 

7  heodore— Yes,  dawlmg. 

^/^^l"!!  i'"''l""-  ^Entering  with  spectacles  on  and  in 
great  haste)  Iz^y-lzzy.  Oh.  my  sakcs  alive,  child,  where 
have  you  been?  Don't  you  know  you  should  never  go 
anywhere  without  your  chaperon?  (pronounced  with  a 
strong  New  England  nasal  twang  hat  makes  the  last 
word  sound  like  "Chap  around  ") 

dy£     '''~^^''  ^""*'^-^  have  been  with  Mr.  Spoopen- 

/Itiiit  Jemima — Haow? 

Isabel— Mr.  Spoopendyke 
\'l""/  •^^"'""'-i^ew  tell.  How  blind  I  do  be  gitting 
\ou  dew  keep  agrowing,  Theedy.  I  see  a  changi  since 
you  came  aboard.  You'll  soon  be  a  man,  won^t  you  ? 
and"thTv  Z"'  "h  I'"  ''  '"^l'""^'^  lamented  Hezekfah. 
P  ctre^of    TJnH^  '^  '^^  as  how  Hezekiah  wuz  a  living 

(LooEng^^ow^ard^  ,fZ.)  ^"^'    ^'^^^'^'   ^^   ^^   ^-«' 

(in'dtnantlyT^''  ""^'   "''^"-     ^"'^^^'^  "«*•     '— 

,^uut  Jemima— Haow?     I    didn't    ketch    vou      Dew 

Skifrdir  '°"''  ''  '  '-''  '--  -^  '-  well  s?nc^ 

Jollf^;  ''?'"'^''  '^'  '^  f^°'"  the  countryia^J  couiury 
folks  are  always  so  cranky.    We  must  amuse  her  some- 

wa?rmusi7S'"-    ^  ^°  "°*  %"^'  ^"t  "^y  "^w  valet 
anu-se  jou  ''"^"  °""'   ^  ^'"  ^""^  ^im  in  to 

WhSe'he^iJ'lm.'/A'^   r'T"'"   w'**^   '^^'"'"y   Tompkins, 
when  she  ''/""V"^""*  ■'•^'"""^  continues  talking  and 

iLr  J«  •  ^'  T?"""^  •'.  ^^^'•d  •"  the  wings.) 
In  New  ISryrK^^"'    sing^why   how%hift.e,s. 
i\ew  England  the  boys  and  girls  all  sing  like  tops 

[  177  ] 


Come  to  think  of  it— it  wuz   at   singin'   skule  tha 
first  met  Hezekiah. 

THE  OLDTIME  SINGING  SCHOOT. 


^} 


iii 


As  my  brow  begins  to  furrow, 

And  my  thinning  hair  grows  white; 
As  my  ears  begin  to  fail  me 

And  I  slowly  lose  my  sight : 
In  the  quiet  of  the  shadows 

As  the  passion  fires  grow  cool, 
I  recall  my  youthful  pleasures 

At  the  oldtime  singing  school. 

The  oldtime  singing  school 

The  oldtime  singing  school 
The  happy  days  of  innocence 
At  the  oldtime  singing  school 

Where  guileless  love  and  music  sweet 
Were  measured  out  by  rule 
At  the  oldtime  singing  school 
The  oldtime  singing  school. 

Do— Me— Sol— Do 
Do— Sol— Me— Do 
At  the  oldtime  singing  school. 

The  master  and  his  tuning  fork 

I  see  in  memory's  view 
Assume  his  old  position 

At  the  village  school  I  knew; 
While  round  about  with  laughing  hearts 

(Our  lips  his  ready  tool) 
The  lads  and  lasses  raised  the  tune 

At  the  oldtime  singing  school. 

To  sing — to  live — to  love  we  aimed. 

To  love  and  live  and  sing 
Old  fogy  care  was  banished  quite — 

[  178  ] 


Life  had  a  joyous  ring. 
And  lessons  over  home  we  walked 

In  pairs  that  knew  no  dool ; 
Till  night  was  like  a  day  in  June— 

At  the  oldtime  singing  school. 

Tommy— (Speaking  as  he  comes  in.)  Were  is  Vr 
Ryal  Nibs  I'm  not  much  of  a  bird  nowadays,  as  you 
wi!  soon  know,  Guv.;  but  since  hit's  bread  and  butter 
L^  "am  ^"  ^  P'"^  °^c"°*  fi8ht»"'  ^'th  wot  I  'a  to 
the  klnnJjl,l7  v'  "'•  ^^^^  ^'"  ^  ^'"»  ^hat  song  abou^ 
the  Klondike?  Yer  can  jine  in  the  chorus  if  yer  likes 
(Starts    o  sing)    "Oh   won't  we  cut  a  'owline  dash  " 

whti/thatTe^i?"""""  ''"  °"^^    '''''  ^'  '^•^•'^• 

mv^df '"d^nV^' n  ^"^'^^^^if  '%  ^   ^°'-«°t  t°  introduce 
myselt    didnt   I?    W'y,   I'm   Tommy   Tomokins    h^e 

quire,    ate  of  Puddin  'ead  Court.   U>nion^Henkland' 
formerly  a  music  'all  singer,  but  now  chief  shoe  fhiner 
and     air    brusher    to    'is    'ighness.    the    Guvnor,    'ere 
Aunt  Jemtma— Dew  tell!  v^uvnur.     ere. 

rowmy— (Mistaking  this  term  of  wonder  as  a  re- 
quest o  repeat)  Certainly.  Tommy  Tompkins  hes- 
quire,  late  of  Puddin  'ead  Court,  Londr^Hengland 

(f  meat  vale^r^  >"-  r«"T"°w    chief'  shoeshin"er 
U  means  valet)  to   is  'ighness  'ere.    I've  come  to  simr 

ofVmisS'anH^'''  ''•'°?'''^%  <"^'"^  «"  ^^^  ^"^""f 

oi  omission  and  commission  of  a  cocknev  to  the  old 
ladys  complete  bewilderment.)  ^ 

Aunt  Jemima — Dew  tell ' 

if  ^.^Tcr^'l'if^^'-^'?  ^^^y'  ^^^  ^o"«  wi»  tell  itself- 
duffe?  itf  Ei.'^-^-t-ely.     ^.irf.-Wot  a  curious  ole 

littt"cHt?errp:7k-G^erS7"''^*   '^"^"^^^  ^°"  '"^^^ 
Isabel— No  Auntie;   he's   a   Britisher      He   talks  th^ 
language  of.  the  natives  at  Klondike  '  ^^^ 

teUhlf*""'"'T^^7'  *^"'     Well,  if  he's  going  to  sing 
he^a'd'therf  '°"''  '°  "^  ''  '  '^^"  ""^"^^^^  ^ ^"^^ 

A^':^r^^^'^T  '"^"^  -'^' 

hulirZu^ee  ^anH"'{  '"'"^  ^''''-  "'^'5  "^^  ^^^^  hand 

with-won'^io^it^  Tctr^rth?:a?.r"  ^^'^^^-^ 

[  179] 


w 


\1 


WHEN  WE  COME  BACK  FROM  KLONDIKE. 

Oh  won't  we  cut  a  howling  dash? 
Issy — When  ? 

When  we  come  back  from  Klondike. 
The  world  will  have  a  plague  of  cash ; 
Theedy — When  ? 

When  we  come  back  from  Klondike. 
No  more  will  strikers  "win  or  die," 
The  Socialists  will  cease  to  sigh, 
For  gold  like  Summer  dust  will  fly — 
Aunt  Jemima — When? 

When  we  come  back  from  Klondike. 
i 

There'll  be  no  "cops"  to  interfere, 

When  we  cone  back  from  Klondike. 
They'll  all  be  counting  out  their  gear, 

When  we  come  back  from  Klondike. 
The  drinking  fountains,  free  as  air. 
Upon  demand  will  sparkle  clear 
With  bovril,  lemonade  or  beer: 

When  we  come  back  from  Klondike. 

No   longer  will   fair  ladies'   hats 
When  we  come  back  from  Klondike. 

At   theatres  cause   untold  spats 

When  we  come  back  from  Klondike. 

We'll  stop  all  hindrance  to  man's  ease. 

Skirts  then  will  scorn  to  climb  the  l.reeze; 

E'en  pants  will  cease  to  bag  at  knees — 
When  we  come  back  from  Klondike. 

We'll  double  Wolseley's  awkward  squads, 
When  we  come  back  from  Klondike. 

By    giving    soldiers    larger    wads — 
When  wc  come  back  from  Klondike. 


[  180  ] 


S       fM 


When  mud  the  streets  of  London  clogs, 
And  they  arc  like   fam'd   Irish  bogs, 
To  hide  them  we'll  IMPORT  some  fogs— 
When  we  come  back  from  Klondike. 

We'll  see  that  Cupid's  darts  are  greased 
When  we  come  back  from  Klondike. 
And   that   his   victims   are   increased 

When  we  come  back  from  Klondike. 
On  straitened  lovers  who  would  wed 
But  have  not  where  tc  lay  their  head 
Wealth's   happy    sunshine   we    will    shed 
When  we  come  back  from  Klondike. 

This  being  a  topical  song,  it  is  anticipaled  that  verses  to  suit 
local  conditions  will   be  inserted. 

(One  of  the  listeners  puts  in  the  interrogation.  When! 
at  the  end  of  each  line  to  be  answered  ns  in  first  verse.) 

4""^  Jemima— Why,  Izzy,  some  ot  that  sounds  like 
Lnited  States,  \oung  man,  be  you  able  to  understand 
what  1  say? 

Totiimy— Oh  yes.  Missis,  I  can  understand  everythink. 

AiDtt  Jemima — Haow? 

(This  exclamation  is  Yankee  for  "What  do  you  say?" 
but  Tommy  misunderstands  and  savs:) 

Tommy— \Yy  by  listening,  of  course. 

1  lieodore—iWho  has  been  enjoying  a  tete-a-tete  with 
Isabel)  That's  right,  Tommy,  keep  the  old  lady  in- 
terested, you  Tcnow. 

Aunt  Jemima — Haow? 

Towmy— That's  wot  I'd  like  to  know.  (Gong  sounds 
for  dmner)     But  there's   the   bell   for   'ash.     I'm   hoflF. 

Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

Ca/'/a/;i— (Discovered  at  head  of  dinmg  table  arcnnd 
which  all  characters  so  far  introduced  with  as  many 
others  are  seated.)  Well,  Mr.  Spoopendike,  are  you  still 
determined  upon  facing  the  difficulties  of  the  interior? 

1  lie  adore— Quiit  determined.  Captain,  don't  you 
know;  of  course  I  am  very  grateful  to  you  for  your 
repeated  warnmgs,  but— don't  you  know— we  look  at 
matters    from    entirely    different    standpoints.      I    have 

[  181  ] 


■ill 


\ 


,1,    1 


long  been  convinced  of  the  fact  that  a  college  educatio 
and  the  advantages  of  having  mingled  with  the  highe 
classes  in  early  life  are  everything  that  is  necessary  i 
any  undertaking. 

Captain— WcU,  if  sticking  to  one's  ideas  in  spite  o 
the  devil  is  a  virtue,  you  are  the  most  virtuous  youu 
man  I've  ever  sailed  with.  By-the-way,  Mr  Willoughb} 
here,  is  a  miner  of  many  years'  experience.  He's  bee 
p  miner  ever  since  I  came  to  the  coast— and  I  ain't  n 
tenderfoot,  am  I  Dick? 

Willoughby — I  reckon  not. 

Towimy— Wot's  a  tenderfoot,  Cap'n? 

Captain— -Wlhy,  that's  rather  a  peculiar  questior 
When  you've  been  going  to  and  fro  among  mmers  a 
long  as  I  have,  you  won't  ask  such  questions,  else  you'r 
liable  to  get  bitten.  Supposin',  however,  that  I  answe 
by  saying  "you're  a  tenderfoot,"  there'll  be  no  ham 
done  and  youT  be  that  much  the  wiser,  eh,  Dick?  Ha 
ha! 

Willoughby — You've  missed  your  calling.  Cap,  yoi 
should  have  been  a  diplomat. 

Captain — I  j'pose  so.  But  when  you  come  to  think  o 
it,  everyone  that  asks  that  question  is  a  tenderfoot  b' 
foregone  conclusion — But  coming  back  to  the  subjeci 
Mr.  Spoopendike,  I  would  use  this  opportunity  o 
recommending  Mr.  Willoughbv  as  a  thoroughly  practi 
cal  man.  What  he  doesn't  know  about  the  Klondik( 
country  ain't  worth  knowing. 

Theodore—Yes,  so  I  learned  incidentally,  don't  yoi 
know.  (Patronizingly)  I  have  been  quite  pleased  U 
find  that  he  does  know  a  good  deal  about  the  country 

JVilloughby — I'm  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  Mr 
Spoopendike.  Indeed  it  gives  me  courage  to  ask  th< 
favor  of  being  allow  d  to  travel  near  you  into  ''( 
Yukon.  By  this  condescension  I  shall  have  the  oriviki;* 
of  enjoying  your  discourse  and  at  the  same  time  we  wil 
be  able  to  confer  on  any  matters  that  may  come  up  a; 
a  precaution  for  mutual  safely. 

Isabel— (aside  to  Theodore)  Oh  Theedy,  what  j 
nice  man  he  is. 

Willoughby— Oi  course  I  would  not  think  of  asking 
this  favor  for  nothing  and  shall  endeavor  to  be  youi 
guide  over  such  parts  of  the  country  as  may  have  es- 
caped your  attention.     (Winks  at  Captain.) 

Theodore— Kvi  Deah,  I  am  a  thousand  times  obliged 
Mr.  Willoughby,  for  your  Jdnd  offer— don't  you  know- 
and  shall  have  no  objection  whatever  to  your  remaining 
near  my  camp.     But  you  see  I  studied  geography  quite 

[  182] 


you 


extensively  at  college  and  have  with  me  a  very  reliable 
map  of  the  country. 

H^illoug/tby—lndeQd !  Is  it  one  of  those  printed 
since  the  scare  began? 

rArodor^-Oh  my  no.  Not  at  all.  I  looked  out  for 
that.  It  was  published  at  least  20  years  ago  and  like 
okl  wme— dont  you  know— has  the  inestimable  ad- 
vantage of     (je. 

C"ptam~){ our  map  has  the  advantage  of  age.  has  it' 

nat  a  bright  young  man  you  are,  to  be  sure.    Ha !  ha ! 

/jafcf/— Oh  Captam,  you  don't  know  him  yet.  I'm 
real  proud  of  him— indeed  I  am 

IVilloughby— But,  Mr.  Spoopendike,  you  may  need 
some  assistance  in  dealing  with  the  natives.  My  lona 
experience  among  them  is  at  your  disposal. 

/  heodore— Your  kindness  overwhelms  me,  but— don't 
you  know-I  have  been  careful  in  that  particular  also; 
and  my  valet,  here,  is  a  Bwitisher. 

Tflm niy~Right  you  are.  Guvnor. 

IVilloughby— But  Indians  are  not  alwavs  Britishers. 

JAfodor^— (somewhat  surprised)  Then  there  are 
Indians  in  the  country? 

miloughby-Yes,  a  chap  is  liable  to  run  up  against 
one  or  two  when  his  gun  ain't  loaded. 

Isabel— Oh  Theedy,  hadn't  you  better  not  go.  They 
may  scalp  you,  or  something.  "^ 

Theodjre-Have  no  fear  on  t..„c  score.  I  have  a 
comp.ete  cowboy's  outht  and  I  will  exterminate  the  race 
if  they  interfere  with  my  plans. 

/jafcf/— (admiringly)    The   women   too? 

Theodore-No  IMI  leave  the  women  and  children 
for  Tommy  to  deal  with  i-mturcn 

Tommy  ?"~"^'    ^^-    "^^^^    ^^^'   ^^^    ^°    ^^^    ^o    that, 
^/.'''""'^T-Since  hit's  my  bread  hand  butter  there  hain't 

n'r,  ^^^•^'"   "^^^^  wot  I   as  to  heat. 
the  .uTfU^r'^}f^  obedience  for  you.  Cap.     That's 
lass  sJlnr     J^'^*'  "'  made  of.     He'd  make  a  first- 
siaughteJ'^of  inno?ent7  """"'  "'^  °'  '^^'^'"^  ^'  *'^« 

I  heVfr?fiiT~J^^PV  ^-^  '".^*=^^'  the  boy  is  innocent, 
hnv  ic        i5  ^^^^,°l  hearme,  but  it  appears  to  me  the 

f  ca Ic'laTe  ;r.^. "''  '^''?  ,3"!?,'^  ^^^'^  of  United  States 

mnrt   .!     ^^"  soon   talk  like  a  book.    He's  most  as 

S?  met  hS'  'a^iented   Hezekiah   wuz   when    I 

S''"£i^^"~'^¥.?  ^'^^  ^^^'^  ^""  married.  Miss? 
■"lunt  Jemtma-iGrowmg  confidential  at  the  flattery) 

[  133  ] 


If 


»°lj  .    i. 


1      .!  -'f,»  ■■,- 


Ah  yes.    It's  nigh  on  five  and  twenty  years  since 
dear  Hezekiah  was  called  away.     (Tears.) 

Willoughby — Indeed,  my  good  lady,  I  would  ne 
have  known  you  were  that  old.  You  keep  your  ; 
wonderfully.    You  are   from   iMass.T.-ihusetts,  ain't  yc 

Aunt  Jemima — Yes,  kind  sir — forty  miles  from  B 
ton,  as  the  crow  flies.     Ochone  I 

Willoughby — I  thousht  so  when  I  saw  >oU  on  dc 
I'm  right  glad  to  meet  you,  even  though  we  must  p 
so  soon.  I  never  saw  a  person  from  Massachusetts 
that  didn't  make  me  think  my  time  had  come  to  go  b; 
to  the  old  homestead,  especially  if  that  person  is 
attractive  lady  like  you.  But,  changing  the  subject,  ]1 
Spoopendikc  am  I  to  understand  that  my  services 
guide  and  Indian  interpreter  are  accepted? 

Theodore  -(patronizingly)  Well,  really,  Mr.  \\ 
loughby,  I  do  not  wish  to  encumber  myself  with  nn 
persons  than  I  can  conveniently  protect — but  since 
Indian  question  has  come  up  and  I  an.  ignorant 
their  dialect,  probably  it  would  be  as  well — don't  \ 
know — to  have  someone  along  who  can  tell  them  w 
will  happen  if  they  raise  any  disturbance. 

'sabel — I  can  speak  Italian,  if  that  is  what  they  tall 
you  know  I  would  so  like  to  come  with  you,  Thee 
Is  that  the  language  they  speak,  Mr.  Willoughby? 

Willoughby — Well  no.  Miss.  It  tain't  exactly  a  1; 
^uage  they  speak — it's  more  of  a  jargon — ^the  Chine 
jargon  we  call  it. 

Isabel — "Chinook  jargon."  How  odd  it  sounds.  1 
sure  it  must  be  very  sentimental. 

Willoughby — No  more  than  necessary.     At  least 
Government  Agent  didn't  think  so  when  he  came  up 
flatter   the   Siwashes   into   giving   away   some   of   tli 
rights.     Eh,  Cap? 

Captain — Not  very — No. 

Isabel — Oh,  do  tell  us  about  it,  Mr.  Willoughby. 

Willoughby — Thar  ain't  nothin'  much  to  tell.  1 
agent  got  the  Indians  together  and  started  out  bol 
into  the  old  sentimental  standby:  ''Children  of 
Forest."  The  interoreter  translated  it  carefully,  ? 
that  was  all  the  agent  had  a  chance  to  say,  in  con 
quence. 

Isabel — Why,   what  do  you   mean,   Mr.   Willoughl 

Willoughby — I  mean  what  I  say.  Miss.     You  see 
only  way  "children  of  the  forest"  could  be  translated  ii 
Chinook  was  to  say,  "Little  men  among  the  big  stick 
and  that  wasn't  the  way  Siwashes  cared  to  be  address 

Captain — They  weren't  much  to  blame,  either.     I 

[  184] 


since  my 

mid   never 
your  age 
ain't  yun  - 
from  Bu- 

1  on  clerk 
must  part 
busetts  yci 
to  go  b;nk 
rson  is  an 
ibject,  Mr 
iervices  a^ 

Mr.  \\\\- 
with  more 
:  since  tli'- 
rnorant  of 
-don't  yini 
them  what 

they  talk— 
Li,  Theedy. 
ighby  ? 
:tly  a  lar,- 
e  Chinook 


unds. 


Ill 


t  least  the 
:ame  up  to 
e   of   tlicir 


ughby. 
tell.  The 
out  boldly 
in  of  the 
jfully,  and 
in  coiise- 

'illonghhy? 
ou  see  tht 
islated  into 
lig  sticks ;" 
addressed. 
ther.     But 


We  are  likely  to 

arou    '  ) 
a    little,   don't   you 


!  m  glad  you  have  decided  to  let  the  Deacon  accompany 
you,  Mr.  Spoopendike-for  your  mutual  safet,.  eh 
Uick.'  It  IS  just  possible  the  Indians  could  not  discern 
at  once  your  college  education  and  superior  raising— or 
v\orse  still,  they  might  ma..e  the  mistake  the  little-  girl 
di.vv.cn  she  w^as  m  the  forecastle  with  her  mama 

II  illau(/lihy~\\  hut   was   that.   Cap' 

t<;/'/.n«-ilavcn't   you   l.eanl   the   yarn.   mate.      Why 

fU  yj/  "\  '''i'''  ''-'";''  »V1'P'-''><^^J  to  c.me  along  and 
tie  little  g.rl  whispered  to  her  mama:  "Oh  mamaV  look 
a  the  men  !  1  he  mama  shook  her  little  spring  off  in  a 
chiding  sort  of  way  and  said.  "Hush  darling,  those  are 
only  common  sailors."  There  was  a  distinct  pause  fo5 
a  .11  me.u  m  winch  you  could  have  heard  a  bed  tick 
when  suddenly  tl.v.;  silence  was  broken  by  the  little  one's 
v'oice   saving:     "Well,   they   look  like   men,   don't  they 

,,  ,  ,  (Laughter) 

but  here  we  are  at  Takoo  Inlet 
have  a  pleasant  little  swell 

Isabel— A  li  tic  swell? 

(Sig.is    of    seasickness    all 
know      h"';^'^'''^    vessel    does    woll    ..    .u,.c.   uon  r   you 
know.     By-the-way,    will    you    excuse    me,    gentlemen 
(signs  of  subdued  seasickness)  8^  uicmcn 

II  illou'jliby— (winking  at   Captain)    Then   I    am   en 
pedftio.??  ''"'''•P'"*^^"  °f  ^he  Spoopendike-KIondik^  ex- 

flicodjrc— Certainly   (hand  to  mouth). 

njUouylthy-Don't  hurry  off,  Mr.  Spoopendike.  Here 
have  soiiie  more  of  this  fat  gravy.  Let's  be  sociable' 
setM.ig  It  s  our  last  meal  aboard.  sociable, 

hini  )''    VvX7v''l?;r''"^  '°T  ^^'  I^^'*  ^•^'*'  ^ho  detains 
mm.)     Ueally,  gentlemen.  I  am  sorry  but  1  must 

5"n&  bnt°^  W?"  — k'  '^.^'  <^''°'^"^  symptoms )Teg 

synptoms)  ah  nTiig^f  d^^;!.  txcT^;  m^e'^vILir'"' 
,    ,    ,     „,     ,  .        (Exit  in  ha.ste) 

Capt'ain  ~       ''"'  '""'^^  ''  ''°"'^-     ^^•^  '»  ^o""  ^^  over. 

Cal^taiu-Why,  I  thought  you  had  your  sea  lees  on 

o  nnke?'JooVl°rf  ''\     '  thought^ou  Zlfoins 

han''trd;2f\   ."*  ^'"  "°''  ^-  ^-  ^'^   ^^alf  swallowing 
ii.iiKiKtren.et )   excuse  me.  * 

^u'U  Avmma-Izzy-Izzy,  come  back  here.   How  dare 

r  185  ] 


'tl 


l.i^ 


you  leave  your  Aunt  in  such  a  tomboy  manner — and 
so  sick,  tew.     Oh—  Oli—  Oh  if  Hezekiah  were  oi 
here. 

IV illoughby— Can  I  assist  you,  my  dear  lady? 

Aunt  Jemima — If  you'll  be  so  kind,  sir. 

(Willoughby  helps  her  to  gangway,  where  a  wai 
takes  her  in  charge.) 

jTow/My— Well  I  s  pose  I  bought  to  go  and  'elp  I 
Guvnor  secure  'is  night  dress.  Ha!  ha!  'e  'as  'ei 
of  money  and  'e  'ired  me  to  take  care  of  'ini,  sd 
must  be  hoff.  Upoii  my  word  hit's  almost  enough 
make  a  man  a  socialist :  this  is.  'eres  'im  as  doesn't 
anythink  in  the  world  but  cut  a  dash  an  i  he  g 
$10,000  a  year  for  his  trouble ;  and  'eres  me  as  dc 
every  bit  as  much — in  fact  i  docs  more,  for  I  dres: 
'im  and  myself  too,  and  1  only  gets  $300  for  my  jol 
but  seein'  hit's  my  bread  band  butter  there  hain't  no  i 
fightin'  with' wot  I  'as  t  >  heat— so  I'm  hoff. 

Willoughby— The  die  is  cast,  as  Tragedian  Sm 
would  say.  We've  nlay^'d  our  cards  right  so  far,  a 
if  the  boys  don't  have  enough  sport  in  the  next  d 
or  two  to  keep  the  diggins  cheerful  next  winter  i 
name's   Dennis,  and  my   reputation's  gone. 

Captain — Don't  be  too  hard  en  the  boy,  Dick.  1 
needs  a  lesson  bad,  but  remember  his  mother's  telegr; 
She  asked  to  hn  e  him  sent  home  "safe"  at  all  hazar 
I  can  enjoy  a  good,  practical  joke  myself,  but  be  cai 
ful— a  mother's  a  mother  all  the  world  over. 

WHloughb:—i:Tnst    me    for    that.    Cap.      It    will 
what  we  don't  do  that  will  scare  the  critter  back.     I 
when  do  you  reckon  to  strike  the  Takoo  on  your  w 
South? 

Captain — Let  me  see,  with  the  load  I  have  for  D> 
and  Chilcat  I  can't  get  here  again  for  36  hours. 

Willoughby— A.\\  right.  Cap.     36  hours  goes.     Wi 
have  been  to  Klondike  and  back  by  that  time,  see  if 
don't.    When  you  reach  here  be  on  the  lookout  for  t 
Spoopendike  expedition  and  on  no  consideration  lea 
the  south  shore  of  the  Inlet  without  us. 

Captain — Never   fear,  man,  and  I'll  see  you're  w 
paid   for  your  trouble — but  remember,   Dick,  don't 
too  hard. 

(Exit  together) 

Scene  IV. 

Isabel — (Discovered  on  deck  with  Theodore  wh 
the  vessel  is  standing  at  wharf,  a  view  of  the  gangw 

[  186  ] 


oia*?*''*  ""^'^  necessary  feature.)    Were  you  very  sick, 

''^'/'♦•«<;'"'f-Sick-mc  sick-Did  I  not  tell  you,  dawl- 
ing.  that  ah— I  never  g^t  seasick. 

/ja6W-0h    how  nice  it  is  to  lie  a  man.    I  thougj 
shou.d  have  died  while  the  ship  was  rollinR 

Iheodore-W'tW,  dawIii.K.  you  see  it  all  de.)ends  on 
strong  will  power ;  i  determined  when  I  came  on  board 
that  I  would  not  »)e  sick,  don't  you  know-and- 

/■omwy-  (Entering  in  haste)  Say,  Guvnor,  is  this 
your  dianond  pin? 

Thcodf re— Yes.  Tommy,  Where  did  you  get  it? 

Tommy  -Oh  I  didn't  get  it  at  all.  One  of  the  waiters 
gave  It  me.  'e  said  'e  found  it  at  the  bucket  you 
used  wen  the  rollin'  was  on,  and  so  'e  thought  U 
must  be  yours.  "•"ugiu    u 

Theodore-Tommy,  will  you  go  at  once  and  prepare 

u  ii^"1!k*^-  P'oS"'''^  ^^^  assistance  of  the  guide.  Mr 
W.lloughby,  to  take  our  outfii  ashore.  I  will  be  at 
liaml  presently  to  superintend. 

ro»,,„y_All  right.  Guv.,  but  will  I  give  the  waiter 
something  for  finding    he  pin? 

I  heodore—VoT  goodness  sake,  Tommy,  don't  sav 
another  word  about  that  pin In  fart  I  am  inclined 

nfo'"ir'  i' /%"^*  '"'"?-°^  course-how  co^ld  i  get 
into  a  bucket  if  it  was?  * 

7;o»u«y_But  the  bucket  was  in  your  cabin.  Guv. 

at'o;;cff7hrrbl^^;„riefi%      ^^°"^  *'^-  -^^^ 

rowimy— (Who   does   not   see  the   vital   uoint)    Oh 

k  eo'^?;  S"^-  '"  *?'  ^'''  "^y  ^''^^  hand  but"er    I'll 
Sr  hoff^      myself-a  penny  or  two  will  stand  the 

(Exit) 
Theodore— Don't  you  know.   Isabel,  he  is  the  most 

/    iT  A  "■  *h*  "***  ^ew  weeks.  *^ 

How  Ir!;;;  HiV.'^*'^*'''^'  h""^  ^'"  ^  <=^"  ''ve  without  you? 
How  long  did  you  say  you  would  be  gone? 

mn^tZ.T^^^^^^^  ^''f"  w'lole  weeks,  dawline.     I 
hah.Tr^^    east,  two  weeks  at  the  mines,  you  know 

thmltf  Oh  T.'"«^    '"t     Theodore's     arms     ai     th^ 
inoiignt).    Oh^  Theedy.  I  will  surely  die. 

thinkinf  of";^'^''n"PL  ^^^''"^^     ^ou  know  I  shall  be 

gohf  that^  ."n/"  •*'?"  Vk"'"-     ^'*h  every  shovel   full 

■THnk  hc^yJ  I    '"*°  ^''^  "'h   register   I   shall   sav 

Izzy."  '  h^''^  's  one  more  shovelful  nearer  mv 

[  187  1 


ft 

u 


Isabel — How  nice !  But,  Theedy,  dear,  will  you  pi 
isc  mc  one  thing  before  w«*  nart? 

Theodore— I   will  promi       vou  anything,  dawlin^ 

Isabel — (Nestling    into        .cedy's    arris).      Will 
pronvse — solenuily    promise— for    it    will    be    my 
comfort   while  you   are   away — that   you   will    not 
your  arms  around  any  girl  till  you  come  back  to  ; 
own  Izzy. 

Theodore — Why,  dawling,  bless  you.  Of  cour: 
will.  V'our  face,  and  yours  onl^,  will  be  before  nu 
ways;  nd  as  for  puttnie  my  arms  around  another 
'  ivould  die  first. 

I'iltoughby — (Passing    by    unobserved,    says    in 
asid'^)   We'll  see  about  that. 

Theodore — And,  dawling,  to  seal  my  vow — (drop 
his  knees  dramatically,  when  his  golting  trousers  li 
at  one  knee  without  him  noticing)   1  kiss  you  like 

Isabel — How  nice!     (Embraces) 

(Just  here  Tommy  enters  covered  with  outfit  con 
ing  of  gas  stove,  cradle,  creepy  chair,  cash  regi 
shovel,  milk  pans,  etc.,  etc.,  and  Theodore,  taken 
surprise,  rises  suddenly  the  result  of  which  is  that 
leg  I  '  his  knickerbocker  trousers  drons  down  in  1 
crous  manner). 

Tommy—Say,  Guv.,  I  can't  find  the  mattress  for 
cradle  anywhere. 

Thendore— Never  mind,  we  will  buy  a  new  oni 
Klondike.  I  see  by  the  papers  that  all  miners  1 
"rocker    "  and  money  can  procure  anything,  you  ki 

Willoughbv — (Entering  with  scales)  Excuse  me, 
Spoopendike,  but  are  these  part  of  your  outfit? 

Theodore— V^)^y,  yes,   don't   you   know.     The  sc 
are  an  original  IJea  of  mine,  to  save  time,  .;on't 
k*  ow. 

Willoughby-lnAeeA !  In  what  way,  Mr.  Spoopendi 

Theod  rr— Why,  you  see  to  weigh  all  the  coarse  j 
that  is  t^o  big  to  go  into  the  cash  register. 

IVilloughby-That's  so.    Your  ingenuity  is  marvel 

Isabel — How  nice ! 

Theodore — Tommy,  where  is  the  large  kettle? 
take  great  pride  in  that  also,  don't  you  know.  I 
another  idea  entirely  of  my  own. 

Tommy — It's  a  toinin',  (3uv.  I  gave  the  chap  as  fo 
the  pin  the  job  of  lugging  up  the  kettle  as  a  rew 
for    is  trouble. 

Willoughby—Yoxi  say  the  kettle  is  an  original  ii 
eh !     In  what  connection,  may  I  ask  ? 

Theodore — Well  in  case  we  run  short  of  provisi( 

[  188  ] 


1  you  prom- 

dawling. 

Will  ,^u 
e  my  oily 
fill  not  I'tu 
ack  to  ymir 

>f   course    I 

fore  nic  .i' 
another  niri 

says    in     it 

— ( drops  ' n 
)uscrs  l)iir>t 
3U  like  thiv 

Jtfit  consist- 
sh  regi>t(r. 
?,  taken  liy 
is  that  OH' 
wn  in  li!(!i- 

'ess  for  the 

new  one  at 
liners   have 

you  know. 
jse  me,  Mr 
fit? 

The  scales 
,  .lon't  you 

•oopendike: 
coarse  gold 

marvelous 

kettle?  1 
now.     It  is 

ip  as  found 
s  a  reward 

iRinal  idea, 

provisions, 


Si's  tSnL',tir  """"  ■"'  "  "■ "»"  "» 

-&t;^  is^'St^itji^i-  ^^«'-^  --,u,o.s 

^  7-.>„,«y-He  means  to  boil  'em  to  thicken  the  bullion, 
li-luf.^'fr^^r.'^'''  *"*  "*"'»  mean  that. 

way  can  the  kettle  be  usefuP    °"^''''^'  '"  ^'^^^  °*''" 
unlfeSttttle  Tnd  l^tShT*'"^'   '?^^"-     ^ou   get 

/r;//o„5jfr!:iYes  bSrf  /,?^'  ""^^''  ^  '^^"'«- 

hammer  in  with  you.  ^'*^^'   *''^  *°  ^^^^  a 

Theodore— k  hammer? 

^^^  >^^4-^S  f'';F ''■°V!:?"°oV.K: 

I  o"wjy— Coram'.    Sir.   comin'      Tti»    r     '      >       , 
(Exit) 


[  189] 


'|.n 


\ 

V 


Willoughby — If  you'll  excuse  me,  Mr.  Spoopenc 
I'll  get  a  rustle  on  to  engage  quarters  for  your  oi 
You  see  Juneau  is  only  a  small  town  and  roof  rooi 
scarce.  And,  come  to  think  of  it,  wouldn't  it  bi 
well  to  wire  ahead  to  Klondike  that  your  expeditio 
coming.  We  had  better  not  delay  a  moment- 
come,  you  know,  first  served. 

Theodore — I  never  thought  of  telegraphing.  Ye 
is  an  excellent  suggestion.  I  see  that  you  will  be  c 
useful  to  me,  Mr.  Willoughby.  Be  so  kind  as  to  n 
all  arrangements  and  then  meet  me  at  the  chief  hot- 

(Exit  Willoughby) 

And  now,  Isabel,  the  time  has  come  for  us  to 
(embraces   her    fondly). 

Isabel— Oh\  My  own  Theedy  (tears).  (Trouser 
drops  again). 

Theodore — Goodbye!      (Arranges  trouser  leg). 

Isabel — Be  sure  and  come  back. 

Theodore — Yes,  dawling.     (Trousers  still  botheri 

Isabel — You  will  be  true? 

Theodore — Certainly.     (Trousers  again) 

(Steamer  bell). 
Isabel — 
Theodore — 
Farewell!     (Shaking  handkerchiefs.) 

Curtain 


[  190] 


ACT  II-AMONG  THE  PHILISTINES. 
Scene  I. 

turn  from  the  South  Whl^«  ♦.,  uii'''!'^  °"  ^'^  re- 
faro  and  cards  beg"n  to  ^,^..  1"  -^""S^^  "^^"'  ^"d 
ward  and  stHkeV  ,i^  I  ^  •^^^'"'  ^"^'^  comes  for- 

ui     c-    ^'"'^es   up  conversation   with   'Tnl "    c^^ 

Sim  /«w— What's  it  to  be? 
inow-Give  me  it  straight. 

strucf  ?'^?-5*e:fj:.°;?'-  n^rr  .^^^"^  ^^^  Sound  I 
mother  don't  know  he-s  ou?TnH    SP°°P^"dike,     whose 

to  git  him  homeTgaiS  The  crftter  ain't'''.^-'f;".""'^"u^ 
his  prospects  as  a  mi-irm„,;    ,""^^^  f '"  *.  satisfied  with 

valet-what  do  you  L  nk  orth^p'  ^"^  '^^^^^  ^'^^  a 
us  common  white  trash  m^Lli'"  '"■^^'"  *°  ^^'^^ 
business.  I'v^promisS  f  Tn  P^r^^Mf"^. '^^  «"'•  o^" 
toed  beauty^Pd  aU   th.^K^'i  "  ^"  ''^^^  ^^^  P'"'^" 

sound  on^h'is'"r^u^i  %V,t"''  ''  "  ^^^^  "^^   -^ 

Her^e's'^^io'u'  sffm°"/h.-'  ^'°'"'?l  '^  ^  ^^"^^  thing. 
think  we%r  ma^ilLge^it'"'"   "'^'^  «'^"">-     ^^^  J'^" 

in  sizrn/urhis'S:y5'^?,l'!f'^°"  -^'^^  ^  --take 
him  back,  the  SoceSon'!  n^  '^T""  '^l^  ^^^'^  ^ave 
already  aboard  ^    ''^'"°" '    °^"'    ^ecuz    the    outfit    is 

chafft?s\V;°:ky'/nh'^^^  °"  ?^*-.  ^  ''«le 
tion.  But  comhV  Wl!  f  ^u"!,'""^','"  ^he  right  direc- 
chicken  to  yo^r  rooJ  °  ^1  '■°''^'  ^'^^  '"^'^^d  the 
dressed  for  the  occLs^nn  i  "'^''*  t'^t  ^'  ^^'^  ^J^ays 
looking  chap  He^''°'^l  ^  |""3  '^^  "  ^  a  formidable 
country  of  ^any  ^reenv  T  ^'""^u'^  ^^J""^  ^''""^  this 
like  most  howlfn'^sS  hi  ^h-'u^'"'^"^  ?«^'"^t;  and 
as  cheap  as  his  duds  '  ^  '"^"  '"  °^^^^»s  »s 

f  191  ] 


I 


I!. 
I 


Snow—WeW,  by  the  jumpin'  jerusaleni,  if  we  d 
send  him  back  to  his  nia  with  an  ex-ray  photogi 
of  himself  this  time  tomorrow,  it  will  be  because 
couldn't  stand  the  strain. 

Slim  yim— What's  the  programme,  Dick?  I'll  do 
song  and  dance  if  you  like,  just  to  give  the  regla 
little  diversion. 

lVilloughby—V\e  thought  the  matter  over,  ant 
get  something  rich  and  juicy  let's  put  him  throuj 
"yarn  racket"  first.  It's  my  policy  to  be  mild,  mysel 
am  his  "^niide  and  interpreter,  don't  you  know," 
when  he  is  quite  satisfied  with  me  his  hours  are  r 
bered.  But  you  people  pull  his  leg  for  all  it's  w< 
Don't  stick,  at  a  yarn  because  it's  been  told  before, 
he's  of  a  conservative  blue-blooded  strain— anything 
is  his  hobby.  He  even  likes  the  geography  of  his  < 
years  "because,  like  wine,  don't  you  know,  it  has 
advantage  of  age." 

(Laughter.) 

Slim  Jim — And  after  the  yarns  how  would  it  d 
put  him  through  a  step  dance  or  something — I  ha 
persuasive  argument  here  ha!  ha!  (holds  up  his 
shooter.) 

Willoughby — I've   thought    of    that.      I've    told 
there  was  going  to  be  a  grand  ball  here  tonight, 
sweetheart  was  aboard — a  wishy-washy,  senseless  t 
like  himself — and  I  caught  him  swearing  like  a  h 
on   fire   that   he   would   die    rather   than   put   his   ; 
around  any  other  girl — 

Snow— Hal  ha!  Leave  that  part  of  the  seanc 
me.  Slim,  old  man,  I'll  get  "The  Princess"  loadec 
b'ar  and  you  d  the  bluffin'  act.  Ha!  ha!  Gem 
wont  we  have  M)me  sport? 

Willoughby— U  it  tain't  too  late  when  we  get  thr 
dancin',  I've  scratched  out  a  plan  to  go  snipe  s! 
in'  (hearty  laughter,  as  "snipe-shooting"  is 
initiation  miners  give  to  all  "tenderfeet").  Holy  sm 
here  he  comes,  togged  out  like  a  Texas  cowboy.  T 
the  valet  behind  him.  The  little  'un  is  the  makin' 
trump  card— but  it  won't  do  to  let  him  know  too  ii 
(Enter  Theodore  and  Tommy.) 

Theodore— By  the  bye,  Mr.  Bartender  ( 
hauteur),  are  you  acquainted  with  a  gentleman  n; 
Willoughby— Mr.  Richard  Willoughby,  don't  you  ki 

Willoughby— (coming  forward)  Ah,  Mr.  Spo( 
dike,  so  happy  to  meet  you  again.    What  will  you  1 

Theodore— (not   pleased   with    tough    appearanc 

[  192] 


f  we  don't 
photograph 
because  lie 

I'll  do  my 
e  reglars  a 

rer,  and  to 
I  through  a 
i,  myself.  I 
know,"  and 
•s  are  num- 

it's  worth. 

before,  for 
inything  old 
of  his  early 
,  it  has  the 


lid  it  do  to 
5 — I  have  a 
up  his  six- 

e  told  him 
Dnight.  His 
iseless  thing 
ike  a  house 
lit   his   arras 

e  seance  to 
'  loaded  for 
I !    Gemines, 

get  through 
snipe  shoot- 
ig"  is  the 
rloly  smoke! 
'boy.    That's 

makin'  of  a 
w  too  much. 

nder  (with 
pman  named 
t  you  know? 
[r.  Spoopen 
ill  you  have? 
ipea  ranee  of 


'To  SUP  UP  THE  BLOOD,  YOU  CHUMP."    See  page  193 


-  >^ 


il|te^ 

j 

^^^^Hj^B^H  1 

, 

^^^^^Hll 

■  1 

^^K^^^^^^Kk  ' 

t 

^^^^^^^^^B 

^H 

f 

^^Hi 

1 

i!  *'          .  9HBj  :  IHrS' 

^:  \ 

14l 

t^  ■  ■ 

saloon    inmates    whom    he    has    surveyed    somewhat 

Tlf^i  \Vi  '^dulge-except  in  the  comJS^y  of^ 
ah— at  the  club,  don't  you  know.  *^^ 

■111   ■^»'»— Perhaps    he    would    like    "a    elawss    of 
mil-le-k  and  a  straw,  don't  you  know  " 
(Laughter.) 

^^JJ^'odore-Beg  pawdon.  but  I'd  rather  not,  don't  you 

(Renewed  laughter)  and  Theodore  first  seeine  that 
perhaps  they  are  laughing  at  him  rejoins :        ^ 

TommT  7X^f  ^°'"/°"-"*  "?y  ^^P^"^«'  "  he  so  desires. 
^.iin^hi^^^     u  °"5\  jumping    at    the    opportunity) 

Theodore— A  spoon?     Why,  ah— what  do  I  need  a 
spoon  for,  pray,  if  I  may  make  bold  to  awsk  * 

Mnnifl::^"  '"P  "P  *^^  '''°°d'  yo"  chump. 
(Manifest  amusement.) 

»  «//o«^/.Z»3f— (coming  to  rescue)     My  partner    Col 

Theodore— Ah,  indeed,  a  twagedian— how  verv  enter 

lou'"fh  ^  '^^^  ^"•''^  F^^*  d^"«ht  in  con'l^ersing  with 
you-ah— pwofessional  people,  don't  you  know  Ym, 
are  so  realistic  at  timesfdon't  you  know  hTs  wealk 
elates 'wl'°  ""'  '""  ^°"  ^"'^  °"*  the  way'w'e  "igffi 

JiL"^^tfT^^      ^1^    ^    declare-ah-it    is    so 
?o.  donf  7ou 'knoi"^"  °*  ^°"'-  ^"^'"""^  "^h-to  say 
(Laughter.) 

laiSe?  aTr^N^t"  .r^^  ^""^^  ^'^^"  he  is  being 
Sh?      ^     ^°*  ^*  ^"-•'"t  ^^^  y°"  heah   for  your 

SnoTs^For  my  health— come  to  Alaska  for  mv  health? 
(iaighs  immoderately)  Ha  !  ha '  ha ' 

Everyone'Trs^o  ^''"L'  ^"^■''  T^  ^?.^^'"  here,  stranger, 
here  a,"'  in  wTnt'^r'''  ^/°""^  ^  ^'«8'"«-  The  Colonel 
Deacon  ^"*^  prosp-oc<j  in  summer.     Eh! 

melho''^i^^'~^^°^^P^    ^^-  Spoopendike  has  allowed 

time   we    .tfJl    ?'''^'  ^u""^  '"  ■"  ^''  ?«*  ^her    -n  good 

morning      *"''    ^'■^'"   h^''^  '^   o<=>«-i^    toa.ofrow 

[  193  J 


4 


;•:  J 


li 


^»  M^      .^.'"''~^'°  whom  this  is  new)   Oh   weally, 
VV  illoughby,  couldn't  we  make  it  later  than  that  > 
see  I  usually  breakfast  at  nine. 

Snow— Why,  Mr.  Spoopendike,  if  you  wait  till 
It  will  be  moonlight. 

r/ifodor^— Moonlight  ? 

Snow— \\hy  yes,   did  you   never   hear  that  this 
the  land  of  the  midnight  sun? 

Theodore— Aw,  come  to  think  of  it  now,  I  do  r 
that  name,  but  the  reason  they  called  it  that  never 
curred  to  me  before.  Of  course  if  they  have  su 
nighttime  it  stands  to  reason  the  moon  must  shin^ 
day. 

S'noo'— Certainly. 
(Winks 'and  laughter.) 

Tkeodore-Tommy  have  my  shoes  polished  and 
hunting  apparel  ready  for  4  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

Tommy— All  right.  Guv.  But,  say,  I  thought  as 
you  wuz  agoin'  snipe  shootin'  tomorrow  ? 

^^i/ZoMi^A&.v— (breaking    in   to    smother    laughter 
the  boys")    So,  it  is  tonight  that  Mr.  Spoopendik 
gom   to  try  his  luck  with  the  snipes. 

Theodore— Weally,  Mr.   Willoughby,  but   I    fear 
fatigue  of  the  ball  will  unfit  me  for  the  pleasure 
mention.     I  only  intend  to  engage  in  a  square  danci 
two ;  but  even  they  are  tiresome,  don't  you  know,    i* 
wa^'  won't  it  be  too  dark? 

Willcughby—Wt  always  go  snipe  shooting  at  nij 
and  as  Juneau  is  the  only  snipe  shooting  ground; 
as  tomorrow  night  we  will  be  on  our  way  to  Klondi 
and   as   gentlemen    of   your   culture    are    always    g 
sportsmen — why — 

Theodore— Yes,  as  you  say,  it  is  rare  sport  anc 
will  be  too  bad  to  miss  it.  But  we  can  tell  better  a 
the  ball  is  over. 

Snow— (Sings  (and  dances)  the  line)  "After  the  1 
is  over. 

(Laughter.) 

Tommy — Did  you  take  part  in  many  hengagemc 
wile  you  wuz  a  soldier? 

Snow— A  soldier — who  said  I  was  a  soldier,  Shor 

Tommy— Wy;   hain't  you  called    Colonel? 

6«ottf— Yes,  but  that  don't  cut  any  figger.     It's  e; 
seem'  you  haven't  been  long  in  America,  young  'un. 
Colonel  don't  have  to  be  a  fightin'  man  in  this  count 
They  called  me  colonel  because  I  was  a  lawyer  bef( 
I  left  the  South. 

[  19^  ] 


ait  till  nine 


at  this  was 


wifh'Xfr^  ''''^"'  ^"^   "°^'^  ^  <=o>oneI   Kot  to  d. 

two  weeks  when  I  left  the  pass  ™"  '""^ 

they°"'"^S°    ,hey    'aye    f  ogs '  a(    Klondike    t«>,    do 

se^':fe;^--V^^tH^i^^-Sn.^ 

^^W j//jj«^A6,_Thafs  as  bad  as  the  story  the  mission- 
^/fm/im— Missionary!     What's   that? 

J./^i7)~^Z'f'^''^^t^-     ^'^°J^'^   "P   his   hands   in 
S    UhJ^lV  ^T  ^"°*  ^^3*  a  missionary  is 
6«^«~VVhy.  Shm    don't  you  know  what  a  sky  iiiot 

hefe'tcasio'i^aX'  to"ten  V^"".  •"°|!y^<^^dles  as  comes 

coitS  t?ettS'    H^etfr^^^^  '^^'T^  *°  J""-"  ^° 
Jo..,    vv"t's^"siw 

Inl'ns""^As^rJn?J"".'-^"^'l"%.'"^"-  Chinook  for 
like  Mr    <:  ^''^m'  ^^  Srot  the  Siwashes  together  and 

to  cht-  &rk^''so  r;?  ''^;:s^  didn't  C;  if^ 

knrJ  IL  1-  u  ^"  gettmg  hold  of  a  Siwash  that 
anrth'e'Vor  'Buf  he'.'^d'  ^^  ^^"  /''^  stoVy'of  No'ah 
terpreter  went  on  strfc.  ^^^"f  ,!P*  u*^""  ^^^""^  t'^^  i"' 
fiavine  a  S  r^l  f  ^-       ^"^  *°'^  ^^^^  missionary  that, 

not  put  ifTn  jeoSv"h''r,';?  '^^  ^.^"'°"'  he  would 
Theodore-D^T^/,  &•  *j"'ng  such  a  yara 
u/.ii       f,    '-^^"  nie!  think  of  the  savage 
miloughby-Oh,    the    savage    didn't    mind.      It    was 

[  195  ] 


if 

rn 


the  mJssionp.ry  was  in  a  hole.  However  by  the  judici 
display  of  a  gaudy  colored  blanket  here  and  there, 
soon  found  another  interpreter,  but  as  the  story  | 
gressed  one  buck  after  another  snorted  in  a  c 
temptuous  manner  and  turning  up  his  nose  left 
gathering.  One  old  man  only  was  left  when  the  si 
ended  and  the  missionary,  surprised  beyond  measure, 
manded  the  cause  of  the  wholesale  desertion.  " 
sertion?"  said  the  old  Siwash,  "They  let  you  d( 
easy,  tillicum.  I'd  a  gone  too  only  my  leg  is  paralyze 
But  why  would  you  go?  demanded  the  preacher.  " 
why  'cause  that  story  ain't  true.  See  here,  stranger, 
seen  it  rain  forty  days  and  forty  nights  right  hen 
Juneau  and  the  bay  never  rose  an  inch." 

Theodore---But  surely  the  ah — Siwash  do  you  call 

Willoughby — Yes. 

Theodore — Surely  he  was  prevaricating,  was  he  ii 

Slim  Jim — I   don't  know  what   prevaricating  mc; 
stranger,  but  I  tell  you  that  rain  story  don't  cut 
figger  when   it   comes   to  describing   the   whiskers. 
Jack  Frost. 

Theodore — The  what,  ah  I — 

Slim    Jim— The   cold,    you    gum    head.      Don't 
understand  your   mother  tongue  yet? 

Theodore — Beg  pawdon,  but — 

i'MOtt^— (interrupting)  That's  what's  the  matter  SI 
Some  of  those  tenderfeet  are  going  to  have  their  t 
nipped  before  they  get  to  Klondike.  Down  Sot 
where  I  come  from,  it's  so  warm  in  summer  that  ; 
have  to  feed  the  chickens  on  ice  to  keep  them  fr 
laying  hard  boiled  eggs.  But  when  they  manage 
get  chickens  m  at  the  Klondike  they  have  to  feed  tli 
on  live  coals  to  keep  them  from  laying  icicles. 

Willoughby — I  believe  you.  Colonel.     In  fact  it's 
candid   opinion — I   may  be  wrong — but  it's  my  can 
opinion  there  ain't  one  of  them  outside  my  friend,  I 
Spoopendike,  here  will  ever  see  the  Klondike. 

Slim  Jim — Well  I  should  snicker.  Say  Mr.  Spoop 
dike,  do  you  like  fish. 

Theodore — (who  wishes  to  put  an  end  to  si 
familiarity  on  the  part  of  a  mere  barman,  says  w 
hauteur)  I  cawn't  say  that  I  am  particularly  fond 
that  article — why? 

Slim  /»w— (growing  communicative)  If  you  don't  1 
fish,  you  better  not  go  into  the  interior. 

Theodore — Oh,  but  I  must  go.  You  see  I-ah-sai( 
would,  you  know.    What  has  fish  to  do  with  it  anywi 

[  196  1 


le  judicious 

d  there,  lie 

story  pro- 

in    a   coii- 

se   left   r\x 

n  the  story 

leasure,  dc- 

ion.     "iJu- 

you   down 

paralyzed." 

cher.    "(ii>, 

•anger,  I've 

fht  here  in 

iou  call  it? 

as  he  not' 
ing  means, 
I't  cut  any 
hiskers  on 


Don't   yuj 


latter  Sl'm. 

their  toes 
wn  Soutli, 
T  that  you 
them  from 
manage  to 

feed  them 
leSk 

act  it's  my 
my  candid 
Friend,  Mr. 
ke. 
'.  Sppopen- 

1    to    such 

says  with 

iy  fond  of 

1  don't  ii''" 

[-ah-said  i 
it  anyway? 


Slim  Jt,nr-lt  has  all  to  do  with  it.  You  won't  have 
iMother  hue  to  eat  for  months  at  a  time  Everything 
else  freezes  harder  than  bedrock.  Why  my  card  amlf 
got  caught  m  the  gold  fields  last  year  aTid  we  had  to 
wjnter  on  the  Yukon  Talk  about  f reezo  t  Uicum  thar's 
where  you  get  the  gilt  edge  variety.  We  knocked  ,,n  a 
cab,n  on  the  banks  of  the%iver  but  it  was  so  cold  fhe 
cabm  was  cu  tus,  and  we  had  to  take  turn^Bill  and 
me-to  shovel  our  frozen  breath  out  of  the  shack 

I hcodure-Excusc  me,  sir,  but-ah-you  used  some 
strange  expressions  while  you  were  speaking?  don't 
you  know,  I  have  noted  some  of  them  as  I  desire  o 
acquire  he  language  of  these  parts.  Here  they  are- 
telly— tillykum   and   kultus—  ^ 

ii^'lloughby-Entirdy    my     fault,    Mr.    Spoopendike 

\Uu  n'T  T^^"'  ^"^"^  ^"e^.  "^"•'"«"  means  wSrthlsI' 
\\hen  a  cabin  is  cultus.  Slim  means  it  was  no  use 
Ihese  are  Chinook  words  which  I  have  undertaken  as 
you  remember,  to  interpret  for  you.  Go  on.  Slim  what 
d.d  you  have  to  eat  (Aside  to  Theodore  I  whrtry 
and  explain  his  words   as  he  goes  a'ong  ^ 

Slim  y.m-Vyall,  I  might  say  that  before  the  winter 

^htj^'^SWrr'^^V}'^  •"  *«^  o">y  about  ten  feel 
th.ck-B.ll-Buckskin   Bill-that  was  my  backlog- 

^ J7..odor.-Backlog!    What's  that?    Is  that  Chinook 

&;f»;%V°.nI]'l''H^"^"l^',*^?^  T^"«  bedfellow. 

before  iZlZ  lu  ^i  "^l'^  ^  ^""^^  *"  ^^^  '^^  ^^  ^  said 
1^1  tore,  and  by  the  aid  of  a  net  caught  enough  fish  in 
a  few  hours  to  last  us  for   the  winter. 

/  om«iy-Say,  Landlord,  that's  hall  guff  you're  a  giv- 
'"^er     "',••   ^'^"*  ^^^  fish  freeze  too?         '  " '^*'  ^  8'^ 

.b/iw  yjw— Who  said  they  didn't,  Smartv?  The 
moment  we  hauled  them  out  they  were'as  sdff  a^s'poklrs 

them  11''!'"  ^'  l^""  '"«h°'«  '"  «  P»e  just  as  we  caught 
them  and  came  for  a  fish  each  meal  according  as  we 

•*Poke'rs"Te'H  ?"ii;  '\  ^^^"'^  ^''"  ^^'  thofe  Lme 
fresh  m. J  I  died  of  scurvy.  They  were  the  only 
fresh  meat  we  had  all  winter. 

Jheodore-But  towards  the  lawst  the  fish  you  soeak 
of  would'nt  be  any  too  fresh  either?  ^       ^ 

..  vnl!  ~^,?u  '''■"^-  ^t  '""^t  ^^  painful  to  be  green 
?heYrv  oin  tZ\  ^t^^"^"'  ^^ose  fish  were  fresherin 
Would  'lo^,  K  r  ^^^."^^^  Ihe  day  we  hauled  them  out. 
hbS  r  ^^^'^""^  '}'  Deacon,  we  had  to  hit  every 
blamed  finny  on  the  head  with  a  pick  to  keep  it  frorJ 


r  197] 


1^ 


III 


splashing  the  gravy  all  over  the  cabin  while  it  wa 
ing  thawed  back  to  life. 

T^J'"!'..'"^":^^*   *''"^   ''oe*   the   winter   break   ht 
Klondike,  Boss? 

Slim  Jim— Oh,  sometime  in  July.  But  that  rer 
me,  Colonel,  of  your  chicken  story.  I  can'»  say 
come  through  anything  like  the  live  coal  experitnc 
|,.,'^?"..<^°'"«  pretty  darn  near  it.  Two  years  a 
VVhisthn    Ben— Yon  remember  Ben,  Hon't  yer? 

Snow — The  squinty  eyed   chap? 

Slim  Jim— No,  no!  the  fellow  with  the  impedym' 
the  frog  m  his  throat.     Don't  you  remember,  he 
to  whistle  when  he  couldn't  get  the  word? 

Snoiv — Oh  yes,  yes  of  course  I  do. 

Slim  y,w— Well  VVhistlin'  Ben  packed  a  buncl 
chickens  into  the  country,  thinkin'  to  raise  poultry 
bizness.  'le  hadn't  been  thar  long,  howsomever, 
fore  they  oegan  to  dwindle  away. 

Theodore— Poor  things,  the  cold  weather  was 
much   for  them.     Eh  ! 

Slim  Jim— Wrong  again.  Grub  was  so  scarce, 
boys"  had  to  buy  him  out.  They  bought  all  but 
ro'-  .or  it  turned  out;  but  as  it  come  along  to\ 
w  <■  ir,  Ben  decided  to  keep  him  for  a  Cliristmas  dii 
It  >  IS  hard  work  but  he  managed  to  save  the  b 
ner     'jy  keeping  it  tied  up  under  his  bed. 

'/■(.^orfore— Afraid  of  thieves,  I  suppose? 

Slim  Jim— Naw.     It  was  the   frost  this  time, 
day  before  Christmas  he  untied  the  string  to  get 
fowl  ready  for  the  pot  when  it  got  out   of  the  c 
and  away  from  him.     Well,  you  should  have  seen 
scramble  in  camp  when  they  heard  about  it.     It 
pened  I  was  one  of  the  invited  guests  for  the  next  c 
dinner,   and  under  the  circumstances   I  joined   in 
search.    Finally  we  tracked  the  critter  through  the  s 
to  a  high  hill  in  the   neighborhood,  and  as  we  c 
near  he  was  standing  on  tiptoes  flapping  his  wings, 
to  look  at  him  one  would  have  thought  he  wuz  cro 
to  beat  the  band. 
Snow — And  wasn't  he? 

Slim  Jim— No,  Colonel,  I  declare  it  was  funny! 
we  couldn't  hear  a  sound.  However  we  were  glad 
had  tracked  the  beauty — crow  or  no  crow — and 
make  sure  we  wouldn't  lose  him  again  I  blazed  a\ 
and  Ben  soon  had  him  ready  for  the  feast. 

Tommy— But   wot  'as  all  that  got  to  do  with 
I'd  like  to  know. 

[  198] 


1":'l 


le  it  was  Ix' 

reak   hup  at 

hat  reminds 
in'>  say  I 'v. 
ipcritnce  Imt 
years  ago— 
^^er? 

npedyment— 
jcr,  he  used 


a   bunch  of 
pouhry  as  a      3 
omever,  be 

er   was   too 

scarce,  "the 
all  but  the 
ong  toward 
tmas  dinner. 
e  the  bird's 


time.  The 
to  get  tlic 
if  the  cabin 
ve  seen  the 
it.  It  hap- 
e  next  day's 
ined  in  the 
jh  the  snow 
IS  we  came 
wings,  and 
(vuz  crowin' 


funny!  but 
:re  glad  we 
)w — and  to 
lazed  away, 

I  with  July 


-S7,w  Jim-l'm  comin*  to  that.    On  the  4th  of   Ii.l« 
-rmou.    A  glorious  Fourth  aiS  anything 'wilt,  aS 

n>^Su:jrH'.f^-ios;^-y/„fB  • 
;i;^;,^!;;ft,T/„t1u^;^Kn°■'th•^3!:lf''M^S 

^e'p'tt^-triro'r  '^^   Th'/n  Sj^th^  £  "£ 

the  orator  had  to  sit  down  '^*' 

coum7^1rS?''"°'"'"°"  '''''■     "°-  ^'d  you  ac- 

th^''"l  .{'"'-^'nipif  as  rollin'  off  a  log.  Turned  out 
't^P'atform  stood  on  the  very  hill  where  we  h»H 
chokeH  the  cock  the  Christmas  befo  e.  He  had  been 
St.f  ^'*^^»^^hen  we  caught  him    but  it  wuz  so 

^r'u^^UKt'tirEearr^  {rtVo"'  ^^"    "/  ^ 

thc^t'of^Vf^  ^""^^  ^T--^'!'»  tTh^ouid  waif^?^^^^^ 
the  4th  of  July  oration  before  it  began  to  thaw  oi  I 

•f fir?*«'a'i  -'.hffonfe  ,£Sf - 
v«S';ri?„tLX<Jtl  "°'""'^-  '■"*»'"» 

w.-f/;r;i:.^rfM'he''h,5°°''   "!"«    «',««    J<=h„„,    Bull 

cofhot37^;ou''r„a''e'!L^S5"  ^^  '»  '"^""""^ 

^e-t'g-n^ara^-ii'&.o^'o"  irt-^o^""  ^""""^  "  '""' 

Sm^Nm  W  rLSS'  r,,"*  '",,'1'''=  «"*"6  timber? 
it  down      a„  '^      Jie'fl ,;  the  trouble  comes  in  cuttine 

rC^Ve^ah^ h%°t'/l2  r  h^nl^^^ 

nfcr'^Yo^l  J'^^."  r;"V^'  '-hadn't  come. 

have^t  you  ?  ^'"'^  °^  *'''  ^'^  ^rees  of  California 

Ton:nty-Oh,  yes.  I  'ave.     T  .ey  makes  wine  out  of 

I  199] 


if 


\ 


'em    don't    they?     I've    seed    'em    in    hadverttsen 
They  calls  hit  Big  Tree  Blend. 

Show — I  guess  they  must  if  you  say  so— eh  boys 
ha!  But  the  big  trees  of  California  don't  cut  a  I 
b<  jide  those  of  the  Klondike. 

Theodore— My \   My! 

Show — Why  I  went  out  one  morning  to  do  a 
chopping  for  a  cold  day  and  I  fouml  a  tree  that  se 
to  suit  me  exactly.  I  started  in  at  once  and  kept 
till  I  ^ot  hungry.  While  I  was  eating  lunch,  I  1 
a  tappmg  and  a  tapping  that  sounded  tor  all  the  \ 
like  a  wood  pecker;  and  yet  it  grew  too  loud  l 
wood  pecker.  My  curiosity  was  roused  and  after  1 
eaten  my  dinner  I  went  to  explore.  And  what  dc 
suppose  I   found,  Mr.   Spoopendike? 

Theodore— I  couldn't  say,  I'm  sure. 

Snow — Why  I  found  another  man  chopping  a 
same  tree  and  he'd  been  there  longer  than  1  had 

Theodore — What  an  enormous  tree!  Are  you 
it  was  the  very  same  tree? 

Slim  Jim — Colonel,  do  you  know  I  had  clean  f( 
all  about  that  incident.  You  remember  it  wuz  me 
the  other  fellow. 

Snow — Shake,  ole  man,  so  it  was.  Let's  have  ani 
drink  on  the  strength  of  it. 

IVillottghby— Talking  about  wood,  Colottel!  W 
the  matter  with  that  ditty  you  used  to  sing  us  a 
show.  I'm  sure  our  distinguished  friend  will  be  ph 
to  hear  it. 

Slim  Jim — Yes  that  'un  about  the  wood  pile.  Si 
Snow — we'll  all  be  quiet  as  kittens.  It's  so  durn  life 
that  I  have  the  shivers  everytime  I  hear  it.  Sii 
like  a  good  fellow. 

Snow — All   right,  Slim.     Pass  us  over  somethir 
wet  my  whistle.     I  ain't  particular  about  a  tuning 
but  a  tuning  glass  is  indispensable. 
(Takes  drink.) 


THE  SONG  OF  A  WOOD-PILE. 

I  wintered  one  season  at  Juneau 
Where  the  weather  is  awfully  chill ; 

And  the  wind  it  blew  fierce  through  the  windo' 
With  a  fury  that  boded  me  ill: 

1  had  to  my  name  scarce  a  dollar— 


[200] 


vertisements. 


lave  another 


I  lived  a  la  poverty  style; 
And  the  one  friend  I  had  in  my  squalor 
Was  a  rousing,  substantial  wood-pile. 

But  I  sighed  as  I  loolced  on  that  woodpile 

As  I  gazed  on  it  day  after  day; 
Yes,  I  sighed  as  I  looked  on  that  wood-pile 
And  saw  that  it  dwindled  away. 

When  the  Winter  first  came  with  its  blizzards. 
^   Says  I  to  myself  with  a  smile: 

"\!  f"  °f  '"^  °"'"  ^"ends  fail  me 

"I'll  still  have  that  rousing  wood-pile." 
I  strutted  about  in  my  gladness, 

And  naught  could  diminish  my  glee  • 
Thinks  I  "Who  could  languish  in  sadness, 
And  have  such  a  wood-pile  to  see?" 

But  I  sighed  as  I  looked  on  that  wood-nile, 

As  I  gazed  on  it,  day  after  day; 
Yes,  I  sighed  as  I  looked  on  that  wood-pile. 
And  saw  that  it  dwindled  away. 

It  seemed  cold  as  icebergs  for  ages; 
The  Winter  was  long  and  severe; 
So  I  kept  piling  wood  in  my  heater, 

Regardless   that  wood-piles  were  dear. 
The  weather  was  just  at  its  coldest, 

When  lo !  I  was  horribly  pained 
To  find,  though  I'm  one  of  the  boldest, 
No  stick  of  my  wood-pile  remained.  ' 

So  I  sighed  as  I  looked  for  that  wood-pile 

I  sighed,  as  I  gazed  in  dismay; 
So  I  sighed  as  I  looked  for  that  wood-pile 
When  the  wood-pile  had  dwindled  away. 


[  201  ] 


Fj^' 


\ 


i'' 


I    .  i; 


f   i 


And  now,  friends,  I'll  tell  you  the  moral— 

The  moral  of  this  little  lay : 
And  you'll  hear  what  is  taught  by  a  wood-pile- 

A  wood-pile  that  dwindles  away. 
When  the  Winter  ne'er  seems  to  be  going. 

But  the  wood  goes  in  spite  of  your  sigh ; 
While  the  snow  and  the  wind  keeps  a-blowing- 
Get  another  big  wood-pile  or  die. 

For  to  sigh  as  you  gaze  on  a  wood-pile, 

To  sigh;  as  you  gaze  in  dismay; 
For  to  righ  as  you  gaze  on  a  wood-pile 
Don't  keep   it   from  dwindling  away. 

(Applause.) 

3"noiy— (after  another  drink)    Say,  Mr.  Spoopendi 
don't  you   sing? 

Therd'^re — Me  sing?  How  is  it  people  get  the  i( 
into  their  heads  that  I  sing?  Not  that  there  is  ai 
thing  particularly  wrong  with  music — classical  musii 
don't  you  know— so  long  as  it  is  in  its  place.  But 
class  me  on  a  level  with  people  who  make  a  living 
means  of  it  is  very  annoying,  don't  you  know.  Nc 
do  not  sing,  most  decidedly.  My  valet  may  perh; 
favor  you,  but  as  for  me  the  request  is  a  positive  insi 

Snow— I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Spoopendike. 
offense  I  assure  you.  It  was  the  length  of  your  e; 
made  me  think  that  perhaps  you  might  be  able  to  hi 
a  little.  But  I  wouldn't  hurt  your  feelings  for  I 
world.  Slim  give  the  little  un  another  '"alf  'n  'a! 
Now,  Tommy,  what  say  you  to  a  song? 

rowimy— Hall  .ight,  boss.    Seein'  hit's  my  bread  ha 
butter.    I  never  likes  to  fight  with  wot  I  'as  to  heat : 

(Takes  a  drink  and  sings:) 

HE  COULDN'T  SIT  DOWN. 

One  day  I  determined  to  go  for  a  ride, — 
Though  'twas  long  since  I'd  mounted  a  horse, 

And  felt  so  indignant,  it  injured  my  pride. 
When  told   I'd  be  sorry— or  worse. 

I  grew  quite  impatient  at  every  delay. 
While  waiting  to  straddle  "the  brown," 

[  202] 


ll— 

od-pile — 

g. 

igh; 
lowing — 

od-pile, 

)od-pile 
iway. 

oopendiki', 

!t  the  idea 
re  is  any- 
al  music— 
e.  But  to 
I  living  by 
)w.  No  I 
y  perhaps 
tive  insult. 
dike.  Xo 
your  ears 
lie  to  bray 
s  for  the 
f  'n   'alf." 

read  hand 
[>  heat ; 


a  horse,- 
le, 


And  until  the  hostler  was  well  c.  ih^  ^^,y 
I  couldn't  be  made  to  sit  down. 

I  couldn't  sit  down,  I  couldn't  sit  down, 

No,  I  really  couldn't  sit  down; 
You  may  laugh  if  you  please. 
You  may  titter  and  tease- 
But   I   really  couldn't  sit  down. 

As  soon  as  my  steed  was  in  trim  for  the  road 

I  strove  to  get  onto  his  back ; 
But  though  I  quite  loudly  and  earnestly  "whoaed" 

He  wouldn't  stand  still  in  hi>  track 
Undaunted  I  smiled  at  the  gathering  throng, 

To  show  them  I  was  not  a  clown ; 
But  with  one  stirrup  short  and  the  other  one  long- 
I  really  couldn't   sit  down. 

I  couldn't  sit  down,  I  couldn't  sit  down, 

No,  I  really  couldn't  sit  down; 
You  may  laugh  if  you  please, 
You  may  titter  and  tease- 
But   I   really  couldn't  sit  down. 

In  time  I  was  able  to  manage  the  beast. 

And  flew  from  the  place  like  a  shot  • 
Says  I  to  myself  "Now  I'm  in  for  a  feast" 

And  one  I'll  remember,  I  wot." 
I  tried  to  ride  easy  and  practised  the  lope; 

But  'twould  make  e'en  a  Methodist  frown, 
Ihat  horse  and  that  saddle  so  jolted  me  up. 
Ihat  I  didn't  know  how  to  sit  down. 

I  couldn't  sit  down,  I  couldn't  sit  down, 

No,  I  really  couldn't  sit  down; 
You  may  laugh  if  you  please, 
You  may  titter  and  tease- 
But  I  really  couldn't  sit  down. 


[  203  ] 


if-? 


At  last  when  I  thought  I  would  surely  succumb, 

And  my  body  seemed  limp  as  a  rag, 
I  once  more  got  back  to  the  "pleasures  of  home' 

And   of?   from   that  dastardly  nag. 
But  my  troubles  alas  did  not  end  with  the  ride. 

And  I  soon  was  the  laugh  of  the  town, 
For  no  matter  how  tenderly,  careful  I  tried — 
For  a  fortnight  I  could  not  sit  down. 

I  couldn't  sit  down,  I  couldn't  sit  dowr 

No,  I  really  couldn't  sit  down; 
You  may  laugh  if  you  please, 
You  may  titter  and  tease — 
But  I  really  couldn't  sit  down. 


Snow—BrAwo !  Young  un ;  if  you  stay  in  the  cour 
hang  me  if  I  don't  set  you  up  as  a  star  in  the  Sii 
dramatic  troupe. 

Slim  /m— That's  right.  Colonel.  You  alius  kr 
when  you  strike  oil.     I'm  blamed  if  you  don't. 

Theodore — Excuse  me,  but  what  do  you  mean  by 
expression   "strike    oil  ?" 

Snow—You  dcn't  mean  to  say  you've  never  been 
Pennsylvania?     Mr.   Spoopendike. 

Theodore— I  cawn't  say  that  I  have. 

Slim  Jim— Hain't  you  been  nozvheref 

Theodore— Yes,  I've  been  to  Chicago— hut  what  s  i 
got  to  do  with  "striking  oil?" 

Slim  /tm— Explain  the  thing  to  him,  Colonel 
hain't  time. 

Snow— Why,  Mr.  Spoopendike,  the  term  is  of  a  t( 
nical  nature,  and  like  a  good  many  other  technical  te 
it's  sort  of  upside  down.  As  a  matter  of  fact  when 
come  to  the  oil,  it's  ten  to  one  that  the  oil  strikes 
before  you  have  a  chance  to  get  in  fighting  posit 
When  I  was  in  the  oil  region  they  were  talking  aboi 
fellow  who  struck  oil  on  his  claim  when  he  had  t 
given  up  hope.  You  see  he  had  been  boring  for  moi 
without  success  when  at  last  his  efforts  were  rewar 
Yes— though  he'd  been  getting  ready  for  it  for  a  wl 
summer,  yet,  when  it  did  come,  he  wasn't  ready,  and 
George,  before  he  could  turn  to  grab  his  oil  coal 
was  up  200  feet  in  air  dancing:  around  on  the  toj 
the  stream  for  all  the  wo:  <d  H''    a  jumping  jack. 

[  204] 


iccumb, 
f  home" 
e  ride, 
ied — 
it  down. 


he  country 
the  Snow 

illus    kn(<w 

m't. 

lean  by  the 

'er  been  to 


what's  that 

Colonel,    I 

5  of  a  tech- 
inical  terms 
t  when  you 
strikes  you 
jg  position. 
ing  about  a 
e  had  nigh 
for  months 
e  rewarded, 
for  a  whole 
idy,  and,  by 
oil  coat  he 

the  top  of 

jack. 


rheodore-Djah,  deah.  and  did  they  save  his  life? 
-^  '^"'-Saved  It.  yes;  he  was  up  there  for  three  davs 
in  ail ;  but  they  got  him  all  O  K  ^ 

•uSy?"^~"'    ^'"""^   °"    ^°"    ^"  ^"PP°^^    *'«"    'e   got 
Snow— No  that  was  the  funny  part  of  it      He  nev^r 
missed  a  meal  all  the  time  he  w[s  there     They  jus"  pu 
some  ham  and  eggs    or  whatever  he  liked,  2^^"  plaS 

Tommy-Well,  boss,  you  beats  the  French.  Shake 
old  nian.  I'm  somewhat  of  a  lawyer  myself.  ' 

Thcodore-And  I  suppose  the  poor  fellow  would 
have  to  eat  .t,  oil  and  all.  It  was  enough  to  givrWm 
dyspepsia,  don't  you  know.  ^  ^ 

i,!im  Jim— A  man  that  does  any  roughing  gets  used 

kVTnl''''^'''''^^    muckamuck    nowadays      Say 

i7//'",^""  er^°";  °"^-'e8eed  Jack.  ^  ^' 

lyilloughby-No  don't,  it's  too  horrible. 

f'""  Jitn— But  if  it's  true? 

lyilloughby—lt's  the  very  truth  c  <  ->kes  mv  hair 
stand  on  end.     (Wink  )  "  kcs  my  nair 

soft ''"  -^-^r^^f  •  }  '^y  ^'''^'  ^^  ^  "-W  you  are  a 
£a-d"  whnf  fh'^r^.  '•'^P-  li^y  your  luck  at'^the  firo 
uoa.cj  while  the  ColoneKs  telling  about  it 

^ now— No,  you  tell  it  yourself.  Slim.  I'll  swear  to  it 
trmh  t'uT^'  ^he  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
than 'l 'can    "^  *"'  Gemmes-but  you  can  tell  it  better 

of'Vt""A^'^~^'^"'  """^  ^"  ^'■"^  stories  thar  in't  much 
outfitted  for^hfv  ^8°  ^  tf "^erfoot  came  to  camp  aSd 
back  n.vl  ^""^u"-    "^  started  in  alone  and  came 

^henhe\atfZ'^:l^  ?""  ^*  ^{^  *"t  gone.     It  selm! 
Ho  r.m    ^      '"*°  the  interior  he  ran  short  of  grub 
heVllv      ."'^'"  '^^"^'."^  to  death  and  at  last  dedded 

delih^rn?L  i  ^^  "'."'*^  ^^siest  do  without.  After 
takin?  hk^c.,°'".uT^-;™^  •^^  '^hose  the  right  foorS 

?omm7'T^^''V     ^^^\  ?  terrible  ordeal. 
tommy— 1  d  a  chose  the    eft  foot  if  he'd  axed  me 

^^^l':i^^!Z^'£f  «°  ^  ""'^  -«i^'  the^grafn'to 

which  the  S„Jr^^'  ^°"  ^"  '^^'  *«s  the  one  on 

Theodore-Well,  I  do  hope  weally  that  nothing  like 


[  205  ] 


i 

1 

«- 
( 

-"'■■}  ,     ■ 

5  ; 


)■  mtim^m:  (Bat  If 


that  will  happen  to  me.     But  I  understood  there 
lots  of  game  in  the  country,  don't  you  know. 

Snow — Yes,  there  is  some  game  too.  If  there  ; 
we  make  it  when  there  are  tenderfeet  around,  ch !  SI 
Say,  by  the  way,  Slim,  did  you  ever  see  Siwashes 
deer  meat? 

Slim  Jim — Yaas,  let's  see,  the  last  time  I  took  nc 
was  a  year  ago  at  Devil's  Gulch.  There  hadn't  1 
any  deer  seen  for  a  month  when  suddenly  a  fat  I 
was  packed  into  camp.  Well  say,  didn't  they  1 
a  potlacn !  it  was  worth  a  day's  pickin'  to  see 
Siwashes  pile  into  that  deer,  kicking  and  groai 
though  it  was. 

Theodore- Did  they  succeed  in  killing  it? 

Slim  /t>«— Naw!  they  didn't  want  it  dead.  You 
stranger,  a  savage  is  like  a  white  man,  he  likes  his  r 
served  warm.  As  I  wuz  saying  I  never  saw  a  b'n 
scramble.     The  Klootches  were  the  worst. 

Willoughby— {aside  to  Theodore)  Klootch  nv 
Indian  woman. 

Slim  Jim — They  ain't  stuck  on  forks  nohow ;  and 
havin'  any  handy  they  took  the  finger  method, 
would  snatch  a  handful  of  the  meat  and  if  it  wu;: 
large  a  Siwash  and  Klootch  would  take  sides  of  i 
their  teeth  this  way  (bizzness)  and  then  the  buck, 
always  carries  a  knife,  would  jerk  the  blade  upv 
this  fashion,  (bizzness)  and  that's  how  most  of 
carcase   was   cleaned   off. 

Theodore — Deah,  oh  deah !  how  very  dreadful.^ 

Snozv — Yes,  it  is  fun  I  can  tell  you!     That's 
most  of  the  Klootches  of  the  country  have  the  fleshy 
of  their  noses  gone.     The  Siwashes  are  so  greedy 
they    glance   the    edge   of   the    knife   out   towards 
Klootch  and,  as  it  comes  up  with  the  jerk  Slim  r 
tioned,  the  Klootch's  nose  is  off  before  she  ever  sti 
the  knife. 

Theodore — Surely,  that  cawn't  be  so? 

Snow — I'll  leave  it  to  Slim. 
.  Slim  /i»«— That's  right,  stranger.    I'll  back  up  ev 
thing  the  tragedian  says.    I've  seen  some  prettv  "wl 
men  in  my  time,  but  in  all  my  travels  I  never  saw 
that  was  "whiter  than  Snow." 

Theodore— But  do  you  mean  to  say  they  eat  the 
meat? 

IVilloughby — Why,    my    dear    Mr.    Spoopendike, 
you  never  hear  that  before?    The  Indians  of  the  C( 
try  are  worse  than  cannibals.    When  I  was  off  to 


[  206  ] 


there  was 

there  ain't 
,  eh  !  SUm ' 
[washes  cat 

took  notice 
dadn't  been 
a  fat  buck 
they  have 
to  see  the 
d    groaning 


..  You  see, 
:es  his  meat 
iw  a  bigger 

)tch    means 

w ;  and  not 
thod.  One 
it  wu/t  too 
des  of  it  in 
:  buck,  who 
ide  upward 
lost   of   the 

dful. 

That's  how 
e  fleshy  part 
greedy  that 
owards  the 
Slim  nien- 
ever  smells 


k  up  evcry- 
Ettv  "white" 
/er  saw  one 

eat  the  raw 

lendike,  did 
)f  the  coun- 
5  off  to  the 


Westward  prospecting  for  coal  <!n«,» 
"?„<?°^f  h"'V°  P-vision°  my",';  nfh"^  ^^°'  '  ^^"' 
4^'^!.;t^^"l-r^^)-  box.  S,im. 
wlnle  you  were  telling  "Lt  S         ^^  ^'^'  ^°  ^'""'^^ 

se,f;fe't'o;;^Lt"V"eii?/T^^  ^^s  -  ^-  ->- 

cigar).    Well,  as  I  was  sayi   ■    Mr"^''''  ^"j?'.  ^^'^^''^ 
we  went  ashore  at  OonaS^-uutr^^^P?^'''^  <P"ff). 
ot. smell.     I  enquired  ihat  it  wn    ""ll'^u  ^  '"^^^  '''^^ 
pointed  me  to  a  wh-Ie'    r  ,r  J!„^^     'i""^,  ^i'^  authorities 
They  were  overjOKd     t   mv  H '"if  '^^^  ^^^^^^  ashore, 
and  offered  to  piy  me  haSonS-'if''TP'''''i'."   ^P"'^) 
carcase  to  sea  as  it  would  take  ''«^'""     ^  ^°"'d  tow  the 
nuisance  any  other  wav     T  n  Jf  i  "^    °  ?^*  "^  ^^  the 
a  long  puff)  after  attach,-nl5'u''^  ^"^  after-(taking 
the  whale   I  smarted  omMv  t'^T  ^"^  ^=*^Po°"  to 
and  it  took  considerate  tii^^to.T''  ^T"'  "  '"^^^^  °"<^. 
I  was  away  from  shore-wpll  I  ?^*  ""'^^''  ^■^>'-     ^^'hen 
late  about  half  a  m He   iTe/rd  i  ..'^^  ''f-^^  ^  '^^''^"- 
coming   from    the    carcase       I    li<f.    '^^"'^  '5'"*  °^  "^'^^ 
listened  and  we  both  hs^eneH.    Z'^-^- ^"^   ^^e    mate 
was  something  wrong  /nuff?  T  h.   .^^'"L '^^'^'^^^  there 
ashore  (puff)^    Well  to  mnL  .  ,  "'""^  ^'^^  ''''"'^'^  back 
do  you  „.    pose  it  was?  ^  '°"^  ''"'"^  ^^ort,  what 

Tommy-Jonah,  wasn't  it? 

Inlt^^fd^T/^familv"?-     '  '^'^'"^  '^  ''  --n't  an 
blubber  that  thev  dIdl'L  ?•   P''?o<^^"P'cd    inside    eating 

Putrifei?s' a^theX^di^^^^  '^  ^'^^  ^^p"  "-  on 

bave'Tuch'l^ck"  Th"at"  w'h"/  '  ^"^^^  "°^-  They  don't 
^'ch.;-  One  season  I  waftherrtlT.'T'  '^'l"  "^^'•^'"'  '* 
supply  of  blubber  into  fh^  ,n  •  ""  Siwashes  packed  a 
'venly  a  pound  of  gokl  for  =,^f"'- ,  ^'.  ^Z*'  ^'^'^^d  up 
^^•-  all  gSne.    Nexflay  ;^o?sbadc°^  '^'"^'^''"  ""'''  '^ 

ro^„„^,    Mossback !   VotT  th-t  ? 
^J/.//o«,,,,_That  means°;fd^:i;ier-a  man  like  Slim 

fS'/S;7°J;^eJ,7ay  ^a^lS'\->"«^ 
enough  to  buy  any  sUck  °4f  ^'>  "'  '^^^"'*  bad  gold 
f-red  even  the  "dds  ,WolH  f  ''''^  °"  '^^^  cla^m  and 
Cut  he  wasn't  in  h  That  r  ^m"  •/  '  ''^^  "*  blubber. 
P>«e  of  blubber  had  be«  t%  *  '!,^'  reported  that  a 
naa  been  ^.tolen  and  as  things  looked 

[  207] 


it  :i 


mighty  suspicious  we  immediately  strung  up  the  Mc 
back,  who  had  tried  to  buy  it,  as  a  warning  to  oth; 
Snow — That  was  your  old  tillicum,  Buckskin  Bi 
wasn't  it?  . 

Slim  Jim — Yes,  as  white  a  chap  as  ever  made  a  n 
or  broke  a  bank. 

Snow— They  found  out  after  that  he  wasnt  the  r 
didn't  they?  ,     , 

Slim  yim— Yes— turned  out  the  dogs  had  chewed 
Theodore— \<'hait  did  they  do  then? 
Slim  Jim— Do  then!     What  d'ye  s'pose  any  camp 
self-respcctih'  miners  would  do?    They  strung  up 
tenderfoot   who  had  seen  the   dogs  eat  the  meat 
not  havin'  come  sooner  to  tell  about  it. 
Theodore— Hovr  shocking ! 

Slim  Jim— But  say,  youngster,  talkin'   about  Joi 
you  seem  to  know  somethin'  about  him? 

Tommy — No  more  than  that  he  swallowed  a  wl 
and  spit  it  out  three  days  after  on  dry  land. 

r/»^o(/or^— Tompkins,  you  surprise  me.     I  know 
have  not  a  college  education  and  are  not  expectec 
know  a  great  deal,  but  still  to  find  you  so  ignorant 
matter  of  that  kind  is— ah— pitiful  to  say  the  least. 
I   remember   rightly,   it  was  the  whale   did   the— j 
swallowing. 

Tommy— Yes,  Guv.,  I  knows  that  but  I  ukes  to  a 
myself  to  the  company  I'm  in ;   see !     I  hain't  be< 
whole    day    in    Alaska    without    finding    out    it's 
hetiquette  to  be  too  pertickler  about  such  stories. 
Theodore— "Why  young  man,  are  you  a  heathen? 
Tommy — Dunno. 

Theodore— You  don't  know  what  religion  you 
Tommy— Not  till  I'm  married. 
Theodore— VJhat  has  that  to  do  with  it? 
Tommy- Well  don't  yer  see  I'm  going  to  be  the  s 
religion  as  my  wife  to  havoid  trouble. 

r/worfore— (showing  his  authority)   I  fail  to  ur 
stand  you,  Tommy,  and  in  future— ahem— I  wish  yc 
be  more  accurate  as  to  matters  of  religious  import; 
Strange  to  say  I — a  person  of  college  education- 
arrived  at  an  altogether  different  conclusion.     In 
the  terrible  struggles  which  those  men  assure  us 
have  had  to  come  through  and  the  alarming  death 
the>   depict  have  convinced  me  that  religion  afte; 
may  stand  us  in  good  stead  before  we  get  to  Klond 
Slim   /im— That's    just    what    I    was    goin'    to 
stranger.    By  the  way,  have  you  heard  the  latest  th 

[2081 


be  the  same 


HEEDV  WALTZING  WITH  STARLITZ  UNDER  PRESSURE.       See  p.  214 


ajUl 


mmatr'~iw'^m^9lg^ 


I, 


l<     i 


i  I 


«^' 

' 

9m  ''  ^      '" 

^HiHI  ' 

ili 

1, 

They  teach  theory  at  Harvard 


on  the  Jonah  question, 
don't  they? 

Theodore— I  cawn't  say  weally.  Yoj  «e  I  went  fn 
a  private  collcjge.  Mv  mother  thougnt  Harvard  was  t<2 
common,  don't  you  know  "-irvara  was  too 

slZl^^U    *^^J°"«h  theory.  Slim? 

^itm  /im— Oh    nuthm'    much.     They've    found    out 

S?s  h!^»«  ?*  found  himself  in  rather  close  quar- 
h?,»  fi  ?  ^*  *8°  **=*''«^  *o  do  much  the  first  dav 
but  findmg  on  the  next  day  that  things  wuz  «nwi^5 
monotonous,  he  got  to  thinkin'.  Bein"?  smokiS  man 
Fre^n^'hr"*  !?  him  Suddenly  that  he  had  a  S^st  *" 
French  Canadian  tobacco  in  his  breeches  pocket      You 

'""Z^TrS'  ''^'"''^"  *°^^-  •^'  ^ion't'y^?''^" 

a  tLZtil^i:;^^''  ^^"^ ""'  ^"'  --  -n  h^S 

.S■no^t^— Is  that  all? 

l^flloughby-Skookum  means  strong. 

wasStirfiTc^^P  that  could   stand  an vthing.     Jonah 
wasn  t  the  first  man  he  had  made  smoke    But   Gemine 

2n  Sa  ^°^l^  ^^^  '^'  fi"t  ^ho  had  used  the  cTia- 

like  fnr  o    u-i^'',?. '"^"**"  ^"^d  around  uncomfomWe 

or  the  Sparest  land"  'if'''^  ^'^"'^"'^^J  ^"^  *»^«"  ^ade' 

^»oa^-Can  that  story  be  proved? 

hap?y1.?th1,is'^'alf'Tn"W'"  ^^^*•^°  *^'^  ^ommy 
repkJished.  Dick  Ind  Snow^'t  'f  *=°".ti««ally  beinj 
Slim  serves  drinks  a?  rorH?M    »"j>o"nK>ng    positions. 

KlSikeT"®"*  '  ''^•■'^  *^"^  *««•«  i°ts  of  bears  at  the 
Bufto/ «;7t®  «r'""^"  I''*  ^°<»<*«  ar«  ««il  of  them. 


[209] 


Hi.    1 


Snow—U  you  keep  a  fire  agoin'  in  camp,  v 
ali  right.     But  once  your  light  goes  out— 

Theodore — And  then  what  happens? 

Sttouf—(^Nith  a  grin)    Well   I   wouldn't   advise 
one  to  stop  to  see. 

Slim  Jim — Oh,  if  a  man  has  plenty  of  nerve  hi 
manage  a  bear  all  right.  George,  (addressing  5 
seriously)  I  knew  of  a  man  once,  that  was  caught 
pin'  by  a  grizzly  but  before  the  monster  had  a  cl 
to  get  in  his  funny  work  the  chap— who  had  an  > 
long  arm — thrust  it  down  the  critter's  throat  and  ) 
bin'  his  tail  sudden  like,  turned  the  brute  inside  oul 
pot  away. 

Tommy—Say,  Guv.,  I've  beared  that  story  in  Ldi 
so  1  knows  it's  a  w'opper. 

5"how— (winking  at  Slim)  Well  Si!  n,  I'm  d 
right  glad  to  hea  /ou  tell  that  experience. 
Spoopendike's  vaie'  ii.i't  lyin'  for  I've  heard  it  bi 
myself,  but  never  believed  it  nossible  till  now.  In 
I  knew  a  gentleman,  somehow  Mr.  Spoopendike 
reminds  me  of  him,  who  actually  tried  the  dodge 
found  too  late  that  his  arm  wasn't  long  enough. 

Slim    /t>«— Perhaps    it    wuz    his    head    wuzn't 
enough. 

Snow—1  can't  say  as  to  that,  for  after  the  bear 
finished  with  him  there  wasn't  enough  left  to  measu 

Theodore — Meeting  with  so  many  different  fate; 
don't  you  know,  there  must  be  quite  a  number  oi 
lower   classes — I   mean   miners — die   at    Klondike. 

Slim    Jim — Die!    well    I    should    snicker!      My 
and   I   staked  out  our   claim   last   season   with    fr 
tendcrfeet. 

Snow — (seeing  Theedy  grow  skeptical  hastens  tc 
mark)  Oh  that  was  your  claim  was  it?  1  wond 
who  had  taken  the  trouble  to  get  so  many  stiffs 
gether.  But  say,  Slim,  you  remember  little  Mack, 
undertaker? 

Slim  Jim— Oh,  "Wee  Sandy,"    I  should  think  I 
He  left  here  for  the  mountains  last  spring  with  hard 
red  to  his  name. 

Snow — That's  the  man.  I  was  just  going  to  tell 
how  he  tried  to  make  a  grubstake  out  of  a  tender f 
Word  came  to  camp  that  a  wealthy  man  was  at  Jui 
trying  to  find  out  something  about  his  son  who 
started  oflf  for  the  gold  fields  and  had  'ot  drownec 
some  of  the  canyons  en  route.  Mac.  'cided  to  i 
up  the  lead   as  a  speculation  and   mutilating   a  c 

[  210  ] 


:amp,    you  re 


advise   anv- 


|r  in  London, 


{^■und    and  asked    o*  inow"wJ'uld"Vl'^''  ^^'^  ^^'^  *«^ 
for  the  dead.     It  took  sLp  S     /  P'".^?^''^  ^  <:"ffin 
and  by  the  time  the  old    n^n  TrL  ^?'  '^?   '"  ''^PP^'" 
c-orpse  was  a  little  the  wo  I'Vr  ^  ^t^l'u''^  '^^' 
forced    to   take    Mac's    u/nr.i    ♦u  .   ?        t  "^  father  was 
description  and  immediarelv  L./*  xV    V"*"^^    ^''^    the 
ordering  an   cxiSvetuHaT  outfit/"'  n  ^''^■''  ^'^^^  ^y 
was  turning  away  from  S h.    u^     u""'  J"«^   ^^   he 
dead  son,  r-.e  chin  res^fSl  /n  .   *^°T^*  *«*  ^^'^  P"«r 
jaw  to  drcp  far  enoSih  to  di.T  '"  f-  ^"^  "used  the 
An-.azement  covered^the  tourUf'f  ?^  %  '"^  '^*  "^  '^'^th. 

then,  remembering  hat  hrssoih^'^"'  ''  ''  '"°^''"'  '"'' 
by  an  accident,  countermanded  tt^'l'.^'y  '°i^  ''^t^  ^^t^ 
to  mako  further  search  ^^  °'"''"  ^"^  proceeded 

Mhh  y,m-That  was  hard  on  Mac 
Snow—Yes,  that's  whe^e  thl  ■  i 
stranger  had  no  sooner  left  fhJ°v  'T"  '"•  The 
able  to  restrain  h°rdLDDointm.nf  '"  ^^""^  ^^''  """ 
corpse,  and  slapping  it  viofernvT^'  l^""^  "P  *"  ^^e 
on  the  face,  said  "There  Li"/ i^f"  ^^\''''«^  '"ot'O") 
onlv  had  enouF°  .onse  to'hnte  ^^*  ^°"  '*?"'•  ^^  yo"''d 
o  had  a  decer.  ^^f  1^}%  ^0"^  "^outh  shut  you'ld 
fifty  dollars  in  po.Krt  "  ''"   ^   hundred   and 

sto^'^vt^t^^^JhS^  '  T"^^  '"'.P'"-  y-  to 

don't  you  know  %The  ^a"  JSj'^W  '^"1'  "^^^P- 
ar:aS.r'  ^^^■■"'    '^'«  a?£r^]ne^ntnLotng 

-/ tie^EfftToX"  tt'rt '"■'?'•  ^  «"^"  >^-'d  better 
will  have  to  chan^f  wm  ^'"''"'"K  *<>  Theodore)  you 
the  others.)  "^^  '^'"   ^^^  ""*?     (With  a  wink  at 

your'^'r^S?;:  gentSn  '  S'  ^^f/^^  ^^  °— '^^ 
later.     Come  Tommy  "^'^  "««*  ^o"   here 

(Exeunt  Theedy  and  Tommy). 

Scene  II. 

give  roomto?daScini°'fr  ■'°°"  ''  back  oper^ed  to 
of  Indian  women  JrgauSl^'.'.V'*"''!,'  ^"^  «  P?oc?ssion 
'".rough  clothes  Mss  in  and  f ^°  "^'"^"^^  ^"^  '"'"^rs 
*"h     Snow     as     floor     Lnf''"^'""  "^1.1*=^  (•J"«^""e) 

[  211  ] 


with 
diffe 
Just 


by  the  ubiquitous  Tommy.  Of  course  the  full 
attracts  immediate  attention,  as  the  Indian  women 
never  seen  such  an  outfit,  and  the  miners,  whc 
mostly  in  their  shirt  sleeves,  with  sombrero  hats,  n 
high  topped  boots,  and  patched  clothing,  are  an 
at  the  contrast.) 

Theodore — Well,     did     you     ever — who     are 
creatures    with    the    red    faces?      Is    this     the 
Tommy — ^ah — where  are  you.  Tommy.    Oh,  dear, 
lieve  I  will  go  snipe  shooting. 

Willoughby — Ah,  Mr.  Spoopendike,  glad  to  sec 
back.  I'm  sure  you  will  enjoy  a  turn  with  the  1; 
Your  striking  and  select  appearance  will  make  yo 
observed  of  all  observers.  Ladies  always  appreci; 
man  who,  like  themselves,  dresses  for  the  occasio 

Theodore — (uncomfortable)     Weally,    I    don't    1 
about    that — or    rather — I    must    be    going,    don't 
know.    At  what  time  did  you  say  we  were  to  go 
shooting? 

(General  titttr.) 

Willoughby — Oh,  don't  let  that  interfere  with  pr 
pleasure,  Mr.  Spoopendike.    We  can  postpone  that 
Spoopendike — indeed    we    can — seein'    you're   so 
you  know. 

Snow — Ah,  Mr.  Spoopendike ;  so  glad  you  are 
This  is  just  where  a  young  sport  like  you  will  < 
yourself.    The  ladies  are  in  rapture  over  you.    Wl 
lucky  dog  you  are,  to  be  sure.     Blue  Blood  always 
when  ladies  are  around. 

Theodore — But  I  fail  to  see  any  ladies,  ah — ' 
ladies  I  mean. 

Snow — Well  that  is  a  joke.  Say  Dick,  Mr.  Spo( 
dike  wants  to  know  where  the  white  ladies  are — 
ladies  in  Alaska,  ha!  ha! 

Willoughby — Wall  yes,  it  is  a  good  joke.  T 
a  good  many  more  of  us  looking  for  white  ladies 
White  ladies  in  Juneau,  Mr.  Spoopendike,  are  as  s 
as  chicken's  teeth.  They're  not  so  scarce  here  as 
are  in  the  interior.  When  a  man  sees  a  white  wi 
comin'  along  in  'thar  he  gets  to  one  side  so  she'll 
lots  of  room  to  pass.  Then  he  stares  her  from  he 
foot  till  she's  out  of  sight,  and  for  weeks  that  day 
red  letter  day  in  his  existence.  Yes,  whatever 
pens  around  that  time  he  sets  down  as  "so  many 
before"  or  "so  many  days  after"  the  day  he  sav 
white  lady.  A  good  joke.  Colonel,  a  good  joke. 
Spoopendike  is  growing  quite  sociable. 


1212  1 


Show— (laughing  immoderately)  Sociable  ain't  the 
word  for  It,  Deacon,  he's  a  comedian. 

Ihfodore-l'm  very  thankful,  gentlemen,  for  your 
'T;.V'"nT;   but    weally-ah-I    a,„    so   aniious-^K!L' 

Yow-Oh,  IS  that   so.     I   will  go   this  very  minute 

?nr  h''«?''"''1  a  partner  for  you.     (Hastens  over  To  the 
furthest  end  of  room.) 

r/.^«rforf— Vycally-weally-(calling     louder)        You 

(Louder   titter."' 

U  .//««^J6y_Nevcr  mind  the  snipe  shooting.  Mr 
Spoopcndike.  VVe  have  delayed  that  part  of  the  pro- 
gramme  purposely  to  give  you  the  pleasure  of  a  waltz 
JMorc-\  waltz.  Save  me.  No.  I  wasn't  going 
to  wa  tz  anyway,  but  with  one  of  those  vulgar  crea? 
iircs,  I  really  must  decline— I— 

. luces  as  the  princess  with  great  show  of  decorum) 
6«^7c.-Allow  me,  Mr.  Spoopendike.  Recogni"S 
your  great  and  sh  ning  abilities,  ^tarlitz.  the  beautS- 
the  famous  Jim  Jam  princess  Starlitz-has  grac  ou  ly 
consented  to  a  waltz  with  you.  Kraciousij 

rheodore—an  terrible  hot  water)  I'm  sure  you  are 
^*^^y.. kind,  yes,  very  kind  indeed-but-  ^ 

vow'to"C-J,t;'^^  ^^  Snow)    He's  thinking  of  his 
Theodore-^hnt  you   see  I  am   unwell,  or   rather   I 
t"LS^ng?pS.  -'"  ^°"  «^  ^»  --  -<^  --«e 
ro;«w,y~Yes,  Guv.    Seein'  as  'ow  as  hit's  my  bread 
( ExirV"mX.)  ''^"  '°  '"^'^  ^'"^  ^^nc^^^nZl  sS 
(T?rnffo  V^°"  'r*  u^'"  Star-Starlitz,  did  you  say? 

(General  titter.) 

veS^^^Mr  I'"''*'  ^^e"  r  ""derstand  English 
ofthP  mnct  Spoopendike.  But  she  is  the  daughter 
woild  n  f*"*"l  Indian  chief  in  these  parts  and  it 

T!  is  kf"'^?'''  ^^^^^y'  '  cannot-don't  you  know. 
ii;!^.  IS  so  embarrassing,  I— aw— 

.i/iw  /»m_(who  approaches  with  a  revolver  in  his 
[  213  ] 


i 


\\ 


ll 
a;  .p. 

If 

*- 1' 
« t 


i    i 


I  ; 


hand  seemingly  quite  careless  as  to  the  possibility  o 
its  going  off,  even  though  the  barrel  is  pointing  a 
Theodore)  See  hyar,  stranger.  These  ladies  a.e  her 
at  my  request.  I  hain't  the  slightest  doubt  but  tha 
you  are  overwhelmed  with  the  sublime  honor  tha 
Starlitz  has  conferred  upon  you.  In  fact,  I  s'pose  that' 
what  made  you  ferjrit  the  ball  is  waitin'  on  you. 
might  say  incidentally  that  it's  part  of  my  dooty  a 
temporary  guardian  of  the  ladies  to  see  that  they  ar 
politely  treated,  and  I  hain't  the  slightest  doubt  eithei 
that  you  will  assist  me  in  that  pertikler.  It  is  one  of  th 
rules  of  the  floor  in  a  mining  camp  that  when  a  man  i 
requested  by  a  lady  to  dance  he  must  accept  the  situa 
tion  or  provide  a  substitute.  It  is  unnecessary  (speak 
in  a  stage  whisper  aside  to  Theedy)  to  mention  tha 
this  gun  is  doaded  for  b'ar. 

Theodore — But — but — I — 

Slim  /im— Strike  up  the  music  Fiddler.  All  tak 
your  partners  for  a  waltz. 

Starlits— Cum,  me  tink  you  vely  plitty.    Me  no  min 
you  no  dance  good;  me  show  you. 
(Pulls  Theodore's  arm.) 

Theodore — (in  agony)  Oh  Tommy,  Tommy,  where  i 
Tommy?     He'll  be  my  substitute. 

(Starlitz  tugs  at  his  arm  and  looking  round  fc 
Tommy  he  sees  Slim  Jim  cock  the  revolver.  There  i 
no  pity  there.  Tommy  is  gone  for  the  shooting  aj 
parel.  It  seems  to  be  death  or  waltz.  So  finally  li 
waltzes  in  a  most  ludicrous  manner;  his  eyes  fixed  o 
a  level  with  the  revolver  and  his  head  bent  back  s 
though  to  get  his  nose  as  far  away  from  his  partner  a 
possible.  Tommy  comes  in  while  the  waltz  is  in  pre 
gress  and  says:) 

Tommy — Say  Guv.,  she's  not  quite  as  tall  as  Mis 
Izzy,  but  she's  'hall  there. 

Theodore — Hush,  Tommy,  for  heaven's  sake — (see 
the  revolver).    E>on't  remind  me  of  that  sweet  face. 

Starlits— Vou  tink  my  face  is  sweet?  Me  tink  yo 
vely  pletty  fellow. 

(Finally  all  sit  down  but  Theodore  and  Starlitz.  Th 
revolver  still  gleams  and  Theedy  is  too  scared  to  stop. 

Tommy — (not  seeing  the  revolver  incident  is  wondei 
ing)  You're  shooting  apparel  is  ready,  Guvnor.  Bi 
say!  You  seem  to  be  stuck  on  waltzing.  I  don 
blame  you  heither.  She's  a  "bute"  and  no  mistak 
(Music  stops  but  revolver  still  in  position.) 

Slim   Jim — Why,   Mr.    Souponstrike,   you   enjoy  tl 

[  214] 


dance  more  than  we  imagined  you  would.     If  you  will 
stop  for  a  moment,  I'll  ask  them  to  strike  up  a  polka. 

Theodore — (stops  abruptly  when  danger  is  past) 
God  forbid— a  polka— Tommy,  Tommy,  Tommy. 

Tommy- 'Ere  y'are,  Guv.  Wot  can  I  do  to  hadd  to 
yer  pleasur-i? 

Theodore— Phase  carry  this  royal  lady  (irony)  round 
the  floor  during  the  next  dawnce — the  floor  rules  de- 
mand a  substitute. 

11^  illoughby— {apparently  oblivious  of  revolver  inci- 
dent) But  don't  rush  off  unless  you  wish,  Mr.  Spoopen- 
dike,  I  knew  you  would  like  it. 

Snow—Yes,  stay  a  bit  longer.  You  can  have  the 
sane  partner  again  if  you  like.  Oh,  (poking  Theodore 
m  ribs)  you  are  a  lucky  dog  and  no  mistake. 

Theodore— Don't  mention  it.  Gentlemen,  you  see  I 
have  taken  a  fancy  to  snipe  shooting  (titter)  and 
although  I  hate  to  drag  you  away  from— ah— the  ball, 
if  you  will  call  at  my  hotel,  I  will  be  ready  to  accompany 
you  at  once — if  not  sooner. 

Snow — But  why  go  to  your  hotel? 

Theodore — Oh,  I  need  my  shooting  apparel,  don't 
you  know. 

Willoughby—J^exer  mind  changing  .igain,  Mr. 
Spoopendike.  It's  getting  late  you  know.  Slim  can 
lend  you  a  pair  of  gum  boots  and  we'll  go  at  once.  Eh ! 
Colonel  ? 

Slim  Jint—Yes,  he  can  have  'em.     (Holds  out  boots.) 

Snow— All  right;  let's  go  snipe  shooting. 

(Titter.) 

Starlitg — (coming  forward  quickly  as  she  sees  three 
gettmg  ready  to  go.)  Mr.  Sooptike,  me  want  to  dance 
polka  wis  you. 

Theodore— Weally,  my  deah  lady,  I  have  a  very 
pwessmg  pwevious  engagement,  don't  you  know— and  it 
IS  weally— (looking  round  furtively  for  revolver)  im- 
possible to  take  advantage  of  your  thoughtfulness. 
(Aside)  Tommy,  didn't  I  tell  you  to  assist  the  lady 
around  the  room;  let  her  polka  with  you  for  heaven's 
sake. 

Tommy— (who  is  really  delighted)  All  right  Guv., 
seem  has  'ow  has  hit's  my  bread  hand  butter,  I  never 
likes  to  fight  with  wot  I  'as  to  heat. 

(Tommy  takes  Starlitz  in  tow.  Theodore  takes  high 
boots  and  miners  grin  in  back  ground.) 

Curtain. 


[215  1 


( 


if    I 


ACT   III-STILL  AMONG   THE  PHILISTINES 

Scene  I. 

TA^odor^— (Discovered  standing  up  to  his  knees 
swamp,  holding  a  lantern  in  one  hand  and  a  game  b; 
which  he  has  difficulty  in  keeping  open,  in  the  oth 
His  dress  suit  is  wet  and  limpid,  the  tall  hat  being  p; 
ticularly  the  worse  for  wear.)  I  wonder  what  time 
is— I  can't  hardly  hold  my  eyes  open— I  can't  understa 
how  it  is  Mr.  Willoughby  and  his  friend  do  i 
come  back— strange  there  has  not  been  a  single  sni 
shot.  This  is  beastly  uncomfortable— but  its  bet 
than  dancing  with  those  salmony  smelling  native; 
I'm  glad  Izzy  didn't  see  that,  don't  you  know.  I 
hush,  there's  that  crackling  again.  It's  been  going 
all  night.  It  must  be  bears— that's  what  they  me; 
when  they  said  "the  woods  were  full  of  them."  ] 
a  good  thing  I  have  a  light— I  loaned  Mr.  Willougl 
my  gun — he  said  his  was  at  the  locksmith's  having  i 
barrel  greased.  But,  mercy  on  me,  the  lantern  is  goi 
out— We'll  never  be  able  to  get  back  to  the  cano( 
and  the  snipes  won't  see  the  bag  eithc.- — and  Mr.  Sn 
—(crackling  in  bushes)  But  thert  it  is  again— j 
what  they  said — the  bears  will  come  when  the  li| 
goes  out— so  the  miners  said.  What  vulgar  creatu 
miners  are,  to  be  sure — ^but  they're  better  than  ba 
Mercy  on  me,  the  crackling  comes  nearer— Will  I  ( 
out?— No,  no,  it's  sure  to  be  a  bear— I  wonder  is 
arm  long  enough,  but  hush— it's  whistling. 

Tommy- (Who  has  been  whistling  the  chorus  ti 
of  "Oh  where,  oh  where,  has  my  little  dog  gor 
breaks  out  into  song  from  behind  the  scenes  as  i 
lows : ) 

THE  TYPEWRITER  GIRL. 


I  once  was  a  music  hall  singer, 
The  critics  all  knew  me  by  name; 

And  when  I  was  singing  they'd  linger 
To  listen  and  add  to  my  fame. 

Oh  those  were  my  happiest  days; 

[216  ] 


!! 


^i: 


Thkedy  "holding  thr  bag 


IN  A  SNIPE  SHOOTING  EXPEDITION. 

See  pag^e  216 


; 

•i 
:| 

'■ll 

l<  .'".1 

1 

\ 
i 

i. 

1 

'  i           \ 

There  in  front  of  the  footlights'  blaze; 

With  my  head  and  my  heart  in  a  whirl; 
For  must  I  confess 
I  owed  my  success, 

To  a  sweet  little  typewriter  girl. 

CHORUS 

Oh  yes,  she  was  a  sweet  typewriter  girl ; 

My  sweet  little  typewriter  girl ; 
With  her  lips  in  pout  and  her  hair  in  curl, 

A  sweet  little  typewriter  girl. 

II 

My  typewriter  girl  was  a  novice, 

When  I  first  got  in  range  of  her  smile; 
She  worked  for  a  baker  named  Hovis. 

Who  didn't  catch  on  to  her  style. 
He  said  she  was  slow  is  a  coach: 
Wasn't  that  a  disgraceful  reproach 

To  hurl  at  my  dear  little  pearl  ? 
And  he  gave  her  the  sack. 
When  she  answered  him  back; 

Sacked  my  sweet  little  typewriter  girl. 

Ill 

She  then  got  a  "sit"  with  an  author. 

Who  said  she'd  have  half  of  his  gains; 
He  gave  her  a  great  deal  of  bother. 

But  neither  got  aught  for  their  pains. 
And  then  she  got  terribly  "broke," 
And  put  all  my  presents  in  soak,' 

Before  she  her  tale  would  unfurl  • 
But  I  had  a  "pile," 
Wliich  went  with  a  smile 

To  my  dear  little  typewriter  girl. 


[217] 


Ill 


I 


m-'\i 


IV 

Then  when  she  had  spent  all  my  savings, 

She  dropped  on  a  nice  little  snap; 
For  a  lawyer  whose  last  name  was  Shavings, 

Gave  her  nothing  to  do— the  kind  chap. 
But  he  fell  in  love  with  her  grace, 
Her  delicate  fingers  and  elegant  face, 

Her  chin,  and  her  cheek,  and  her  curl; 
Till  I  took  to  drink, 
For  what  do  you  think? 

He  married  my  typewriter  girl. 

Tommy — (Emerging   from    woods   as   he    sings    1 
chorus)    Hey,  Guvnor— Guvnor !  .  -     ,, 

Theodore— Oh,  Tommy,  it's  you,  is  it?     I  m  so  g 

you've  come.  ,  .         .    n     •  , 

Tommy— Why,  Guv,  Where  ave  you  been  hall  nigl 
Theodore—Snipt  shooting,  Tommy,  snipe  shootini 

Don't  you   remember  when    I   left  the  ball   with    I 

Willoughby  and  that  actor  man.    It  does  seem  a  Ic 

tir  c  ago— But  you  recall  it,  don't  you? 

Tommy— But  they  came  back  hafter  that  and  dani 

till  past  midnight.  ^  ,     . 

Theodore— What  time  is  it  now.  Tommy?     I  c: 

see  my  watch.  .....       i  a  -ru 

Tommy— Time!  Don't  you  see  hits  daybreak?  The) 
just  sent  me  hoff  to  see  why  you  haren't  ready  to  si 
for  Klondike.  It  must  be  past  5  o'clock  now  and  t 
say  you  arranged  to  go  at  4. 

Theodore— Do  they?    How  strange!     They  are  v 
forgetful  people,  don't  you  know— Why,  they  left 
here  at  11  o'clock  last  night  to  hold  the  lantern  and 
bag.    They  cautioned  me  to  hold  the  bag  open,  beca 
they  said  when  the  snipes  did  come  they'd  come  wit 

Tommy— They've  been  aguying  hof  vou.  Guv.    Th 
sure.     But  they're  in  dead  hearnest,  now,  for  the; 
taken  your  houtfit  and  told  me  to  tell  vou  to  urry 
catch  hup  to  them.  . 

Theodore— But,  Tommy,  I  have  not  had  a  wink 

Tommy— No  more  hain't  I,  Guv.  Wot,  with  drinl 
your  'ealth  with  SHm  Jim  and  the  boys,  as  yer 
quested,  and  hacting  as  yer  substitoot  all  night  > 

I  218] 


mgs, 

havings, 
chap. 

ce, 
curl; 


sings    last 

m  so  glad 

tiall  night? 

shooting— 

with   Mr. 

em  a  long 

ind  danced 

?     I   can't 

k?  They've 
dy  to  start 
V  and  they 

y  are  very 
ey  left  me 
:rn  and  the 
en,  because 
ame  with  a 

uv.  That's 
for  they've 
0  'urry  and 

a  wink  of 

th  drinking 
as  yer  re- 
night  with 


Starlitz,  I  clean  forgot  hit  was  night.     But,  say.  Guv 

hat  wench  is  a  rum  un  hand  no  mistake.     She  hasked 

to  be  remembered  to  you.  "iskcu 

Theodore— Tommy,  my  deah  fellow,  you  must  never 

i'S.\^\h7^  \^°"'  '^^'  episode-or  any  otJTer  episode 
I  might  add-when  we  come  back  from  Klondike 

Tomm3'-(dramatically)     Yer   secrets   dies   with   me 
G"v--Put  It  there.     (Shakes  hands). 

way    -rlmmT?       "^^  *""'*  ^^  ^°'"^"    ^°  ^°"  ''"°'^  ^^^ 

4^:a?t7?i^f?r  b'r''3cf{'^  ^°'"^^'  ^'^"^   '^^   ^P°» 

goK^Ki^n^dikeftoo^r"^'    '^    ''''    ^^^^^^"'    -- 

Tommy-Yes   it  was  'im  as  took  the  canoe  we  were 

to  ave  and  said  we  were  to  walk 

Theodore— And  they  have  all  the  outfit? 

Tommy-Yes.  Guv.     I'd  'av  made  'em  wait  if  there 

ad  been   only  two  or  three-but   there  was  a   dozen 

owhn    savages   along,   and   hevery   one   on    'em   took 

French  leave  hof  a  harmful.  «=   on    em   took 

un?    U^«''KtT^*'^*u'^?l'  ^"^'"^  °*  "8  «f  *e  can't  catch 
we'll  slar^^r  ToZy."  "^  '°  "^^'^  ""'  '^"^  '^  *«  d^'^' 
Jomwy— Yes,  (pensively)  hunless  we  draws  lots    as 
thev  does  m  story  books,  and  heats  one  anXr     ' 

TnmmJ?  *'n  i?"^  *^^".  y°"  suggest  such  a  vultrar  thing. 
Tommy.?  Deah  me,  let  us  find  the  outfit  at  once,  so 
that  I  may  dress  for  breakfast.  ' 

as  W  h^?v    ?€''?•  ^"^;     (^'t^*  a  grimace)     Seein' 

never  likes  tnfi'crht-^»,*°  ''S'^^  ''"^^  hand  butter,  I 
never  likes  to  fight  with  wot  I  'as  to  heat.   Come  along 

(Exeunt.) 
Scene  II, 

w;S'°rr^?'**^*?^*'"«^  *»**'  D'ck  on  shore  of  Takoo 
h  d\th'\*SleTk*'^f  background)  Deacon,  we  have^t 
Kiffj,  A  ^K^^^  °^  ^^'^^  »"  many  a  day.  When  our 
r^ffj^''?"^  ^''^^'^^  «^t«  back  to  New  York,  he'll  have 
a^^diflFerent  idea  of  gold  mining  than  he  had  when  he 

Get  him  L\-    f  *°   '^'^^   bim   some   real   experience 

Snow    Ai'-t}""^^'  '"  ^  ^"ft.  for  instance.^ 

Driftr;;^d«mn,   "^  r,^'^"*  '^""^  ^^'^t  y°"  nieant. 

would  be  "vewv  vff"^  ^'''i'"^.'  ^'^  ^"  o"«  to  him.  and 
uia  DC     vewy  vulgar,  don't  you  know."  to  say  the 

[  219  ] 


'■'■l 


w 


KM' 


M 


least.     He  may  have  heard   somewhere  that  all  1 
glitters  is  not  gold,  but  it  takes  tenderfeet  a  long  t 
to  find  that  a  good  deal  that  doesn't  glitter  is  as  g 
gold  as  the  rest  of  it.     Upon  my  honor,  pard,  I 
joyed  the  dance  last  night  more  than  usual. 

H'illoughby — It  was  amusing,  Colonel.  But  the  da 
couldn't  hold  a  candle  to  the  snipe  shooting. 
snipe-shooting  was  picturesque.  1  don't  often  lav 
George,  but  I  broke  the  record  last  night  out  in 
woods.  I  joined  the  procession  from  Juneau  a  li 
after  midnight,  and  to  see  that  booby  standing  out  tl 
like  a  frozen  rat,  and  waiting  till  the  snipes  fell  i 
the  bag  was  too  much  for  even  my  risibilities. 

Snow — Ha!  ha!  Same  here,  Dick.  H  we'd  only 
a  kodak,  eh?  Do  you  know  he  set  me  thinking  of 
make  up  the  time  I  played  "The  Private  Secretary' 
Cariboo.  As  luck  would  have  it,  a  rainstorm  came 
during  the  performance  and  the  shack  we  played 
leaked  so  badly  my  clerical  habit  clung  to  me  cK 
than  his  royal  nib's  dress  coat.  But,  Deacon,  the  ste 
boat  will  be  here  tonight  and  we'd  better  get  a  move 

IVilloughby — Yaas,  that's  the  worst  of  it,  we  w 
have  time  to  get  him  properly  salted  down. 

Snow — How  will  we  apologize  for  leaving  him 
in  the  wet?     He'll  be  howling  mad  when  the  little 
finds  him. 

Willoughby — Don't  trouble  yourself  on  that  sc 
I've  had  to  deal  with  too  many  tenderfeet  in  my  ti 
to  dodge  at  that  prospect.  He'll  smell  a  rat  when 
hears  from  his  valet  that  we  were  at  the  dance  a 
leaving  him,  and  he's  too  dignified  to  mention  a  ti 
in  which  he  cut  such  a  ludicrous  figure.  Keep  m 
and  you'll  never  hear  another  word  about  it. 

Snow— I  guess  you're  right,  pard ;  and  anyway,  a  i 
who  hasn't  enough  sense  "to  come  in  out  of  the  v 
ain't  liable  to  make  much  fuss.  What's  the  next  i 
on  the  program?  Will  we  let  him  have  a  shy  at  cc 
ing  his  own  grub  or — 

Willoughby — Why,    Colonel,    I    gave   you   credit 
knowing  how  to  handle  a  tenderfoot. 

Snow — Well,  Dick,  it  does  do  my  heart  good  to 
the  smoke  follow  a  greenhorn  around  a  camp  fire 
never  knew  a  case  yet  where  it  failed. 

fVilloughby — Yes,  that's  straight  enough — ^but  a  bo; 
in'  house  in  the  woods  with  a  klootch  as  kitchen  n 
is  the  only  sure  inducement  for  camp  solitude;  and 
want  him  to  go  into  that  of  his  own  accord.    No  i 


[220] 


il 


at  all  that 
I  long  time 
is  as  good 
tard,   I  ei.- 

t  the  dance 
ting.  The 
ften  laugh, 
out  in  the 
;au  a  little 
g  out  there 
;s  fell  into 
es. 

d  only  had 

king  of  niy 

xrretary"  in 

m  came  on 

played  in 

me  closer 

the  steain- 

a  move  on. 

,  we  won't 

ig  him  out 
he  little  un 

that  score. 
n  my  time, 
it  when  he 
dance  after 
ion  a  thing 
Keep  mum, 

way,  a  man 
)f  the  wet " 
:  next  item 
hy  at  cook- 
credit   for 

jood  to  see 
imp  fire.    I 

>ut  a  board- 
itchen  maid 
de;  and  we 
1.    No  man 


until  he  has  seen  how"  h*!  low  ^T^^^        '°^"  P°' 

her.  Ain't  you  an  actor  Cofon?'  ff/u*°"«  *»thout 
fession  good  for  "f  voS„n'.^b  ^''^^^  ^0"^  P^o- 
sometimls?  Holy  smoke  r^.n™^^^MP"*=V"'  "««=  »'  't 
an  Indian.  Just  oaS?  vm?^f  i'*  ^°"  "  "l*"**  ^  jewel  of 
kind.     SpoopyhafnT  lien   font  "^  *°  ^^'   ^°"^  °f  ^ 

JsZd^^'-^^  ^jatTs  St'"  r."*^^^^  r^'j"  *»>«  d-t 

coming.  Keep  -em  here  till  I  L  /^I!*=^  ^  ''^^^  ^''em 
By-the-way.  remember  he  hnksSH-^T"  •°  *°«^  "P" 
the  outfit,  and  I  made  ^n  J  »/?    *     i""  .-^"P  '^  P^^  of 

the  Siwashes  loadTng  the  caioe  ci?  ''"''  S?*^'^.^.  «" 
dream  we  were  sending  the  st«ff  h?l  f^^'M^  ^'^  ^**l"'t 
wharf,  and  IVe  no  Z,ht  tlfl  ?  ^^t  ^°  *?*  steamboat 
concluded  the  whole  Indian  n,H^**  ^^^^'  ^^  ^^''  time, 
to  the  Yukon.  "^*'°"  ^""e  to  escort  them 

(Exit  Snow) 

Tomm^'To^^t^'^rso^'fLt^^J^h'^^     Tom^y        ^    jeah 
twigs  are  settinf  m^,      "~^'^~°*~^   ^^  believe  the 

0w!-ouch-for"^merc7s  3e°  ho'ir^''  ^°  *"P  «"*  "P 
catch  up.  That  last  hranrh  c* '  u  "^  °".'  .Tommy,  till  I 
don't  you  know-Dea^  d'-.h™''''  ""^  "»^*  °"  the  nose, 
rowwv-NMr  thl  ti  V^Kt^^'^  *e  "ear  the  place? 
hocean  yet.    We're  eo^inTi  V°-     ^^S  ''^'"'t  «°t  to  the 

w£^t^n;^3'°^°^^      -ever 

rtr^^lf^;^^  iZ,]fil^^^  ^  to   get    a 

chaps.     That  SHm  fi^  L      "^  ''"P  *'th  those  miner 

,^^j         3-    XNaw.     But  thank  'eaven  'ere  we  hare  hat 

[221  ] 


n  H 


m 


I 


i:'  I 


111  f  t 


[■1 


(Comes  on  stage.) 
r/ifodorc-Where.  Oh-ouch— Tommy,  wait  a  mim 
or  weally  I  shall  be  compelled  to  obtam  another  vale 
weallly    I  shall.     Oh.   I   do  believe   1  have  broken 

^"Come's    on    stage    limping.    stUl    i"    ^is    ^Iress    s 
which  is  torn  and  muddy  and  his  silk  hat  is  out 

^^Wuhughby-yNhy,  Mr.  Spoopendike,  I'm  so  glad 
see  you  Ifs  too  bad  to  wake  you  up.  at  such  an 
errthly  hour,  but  we  had  to  do  it.  business  is  busm 
and  we  mus  be  first  on  the  field  i  we  wint  to  m 
a  payTng^take.  But  you've  been  having  a  constitutio 
I  'see-^fs  a  fine  appetizer.,  One  needs  something 
that  kind  to  appreciate  one's  breakfast.  But  that 
mfnds  me.  did' you  make  .any  -".^"f  %"»^,f^5;" 
French  cdok  or  anything  m  that  line.  YouU  ha 
care  to  out  up  with  our  humble  diet. 

r/,J°/or.-Weally,  Mr.  WiUoughby,  .  I  quite  o 
looked  the  culinarv  part  of  the  expedition-indcc 
haH  bel  eved  we  would  be  able  to  drop  into  the  half 
houses  and  inns  enroute  and  get  what  we  desire, 

^^iliolghby-Hovi  strange  that  a  man  of  your  evi 
abmty   whose  ingenious  mind  even  thought  of  sucli 
?an    as^  cradle  to  rock  the  gol'' -dark  glasses  to 
your  eyes  from  the  glittering  dust-and  a  ket  e  to 
the  bullion-and  yet  did  not  arrange  for  a  bite  to 
But  great  men  are  always  like  that    as  you  say. 
course  you  can  drop  into  the  eating  houses  by  the 
Tommy-Say,  Guv..  I   'opes  you   wont.^ya^t  till 
come  acLs  a'^'heating  'ouse  .i.  this    ^wUn    deser 
don't  know  'ow  you  feel,  but  it  seems  to  me  has   a. 
best   interest  hat   'art-hit  seems  to  me  has    ow 
bought  to  'ave  something,  not  to  mention  the  m( 
ful  I'd  like  myself.  ..      ... 

Theodore-lndetd,  Tommy,  you  are  quite  right 
WiUoughby,  can  you  undertake  to  find  the  nece 
accommodations  for  us  en  route?         ,     .     ,„     t, 

WiUoughby— I  shall  be  most  happy  to  do  so.  it 
be  such  an  Lnor  ^  have  you  eat  at  "ly  ow"  ta 
most  of  the  family  nave  already  breakfasted,  but  i 
wish  I  will  ask  my  fair  partner  to  prepare  a  repas 

^°r>tfodor^— (Patronizingly)  Don't  mention  it,  I'm 
I  alwavs  trv  to  adapt  myself  to  the  ways  of  the  i 
classes;   don't  you  know,   when   circumstances   re 

[  222  1 


me  to  be  in  their  company.  I  hope  you  will  feel  quite 
at  home  while  I  am  around,  indeed  I  do 

lytUoughby— Certainly,  Mr.  Spoopendike.  certainly; 
you  are  very  kind,  "don't  you  know."  If  you'll  just 
come  over  with  na  I  will  introduce  you  to  the  one  who 
has  sworn  to  honor  and  obey— "don't  you  know  " 

_.      J  (Exit) 

Theodore— And  so  we  are  to  meet  a  lady,  and  me  in 
this  condition.  Tommy,  let  us  change  hats.  The 
weather  has  played  such  havoc  with  mine  that  it  is 
not  becoming.  It  does  not  so  much  matter  how  you 
look.  ^ 

Tommy— Hal]  right.  Guv.  I  spose  it  don't.  Hany- 
how,  seem  hit  s  my  bread  hand  butter,  I  never  like  to 
hght  with  wot  I  'as  to  heat. 

(They  change  hats  and  hurry  after  Willoughby). 
Scene  III. 

(Snow  discovered  in  front  of  tent  dressed  like  an 
Indian  woman  with  his  face  and  hands  painted,  his 
head  m  a  handkerchief,  and  a  dirty  blanket  around  his 
shoulders     A  camp  fire  is  visible  with  a  pot  fastened 

HZ     A  ^K"°'ii^u"'^  ^^  ^^^  J&°*  ^''^"  Willoughby  enters, 
lollowed  by   Theedy  and   Tommy.) 

milouahby— Halloa,  Old  stick-in-the-mud,  have  you 
any  muck-a-muck  left?  (Aside  to  Theodore-muck- 
a-muck  is  Chinook  for  grub)  I've  brought  you  two 
new  boarders-This  one  is  Mr.  Spoopendike,  1  J  this 
one— by-the-way,  what  is  your  name,  Shorty? 
Jommy— Oh,  hit  don't  matter  wot  you  calls  me  has 
loiig  has  you  gives  me  enough  to  heat. 

Theodore-He  is  my  valet,  don't  you  know. 

i-«oa,-yalet-Valley,  What  is  Valley?  Oh,  yes,  now 
IfJu  ^^^'  5  goot  choke,  ha!  ha!  ha!  when  zay  are 
together  zay  do  look  like  a  mountain  and  a  valley 

y/»rorfore- teg  pardon,  Madam,  did  you  speak? 

.he  /inn^»^i^~°^'  '^°"*  '"•"^   h"'  Mr.   Spoopendike, 
armmd  ''^'"'"•"s,  except  when  there  is  "hoochinoo'' 

^Theodore-And    what    do   you    mean    by    hooch;    .0. 

eetS''!'^  ^*^~°|J'  \  ^f«  y^"*"  P"J°"-     T  do  keep  for- 
fnooTs  Chinrok  lor  whis°kV'^  ^'"'^'^^  '''■     "°°^'- 

.Jinff"'''^"^'    '"^5^^;     This    Chinook    is    quite    a 
Zn'  \  ""pediment,    don't    you    know.      Strange   they 

Uth,   dnnJj  "  ^t  college-    Why.  one  needs  it  mo^re  than 
^-aun,  don  t  you  know. 

[  2?'i  ] 


Lm 


?  , 


WiV/oKoAby— Yaas,  (dryly)  it  is  peculiar,  but  w 
one  has  knocked  about  the  world  as  long  as  I  have 
finds  that  there  are  several  other  things  besides  Chnv 

that  they  don't  teach  at  college.      

Theodore— Oh,  nonsense,  Mr.  WiUoughby,  you  n 
be    prejudiced.      But    ah— by-the-way— you    know 
said   you    were   going   to   introduce    me    to   your   : 

partner,  don't  you  know.  

IViUoughby— My  partner?     Why,  hain't  I  ntrodu 
you  yet.    I  beg  your  pardon,  indeed  T  do.    Stick-in-l 
mud,  turn  round  so  the  gentleman  can  see  you. 
Spoopendike— jtick-in-the-niufl,     Sti  '   in-the-mud 
Spoopendike.     She  don't  talk  th.   I -est  of  English 
you'll  find  her  very  pood-natured.    But  I  see  its  get 
late.     If  you'll  excuse  nie,  gentlemen,  I'll  go  and  1 
uo  Slim  jim,  for  it's  time  to  be  getting  on.    Make  yc 
self    comfortable.      Stick-in-the-mud    will    have    > 
muck-a-mucl-     eadv  in  a  minute  or  two. 

( Exit  to  back  of  tent  where  he  hides  in  order  to 
the  performance.)  .  ..     ^ 

Srni  -(Addressing   Theodore,    while   Tommy   li 
other  side  of  stage)  Clah  bow  yah,  tillicum? 
' hvodore — Beg  pardon ! 
Snow — Clah  how  yah? 

Theodore— I  weally  don't  comprehend  your  mear 
madam,  I  assure  you  I  don't.    Say  something  else 
perhaps — 

Snotw^Niki  halo  cumtux,  eh!  Well,  how  is  : 
tumtum  ? 

Theodore— yiy  tumtum— weally,  madam,  you  have 
again— What  is  "tumtum,"  pray?  You  see  my  Chu 
education  has  been  somewhat  neglected. 

^notc^— Tumtum  means  health— now  saby— Ho\ 
your  tumtum? 

Theodore— Oh,  if  it's  my  health  you  mean,  why, 
health   is   very   good— at   least   considering— don't 
know.    Tommy,  Tommy,  come  here  like  a  good  fel 
and  converse  with  this  cannibal. 

Towmy— Comin',  Guv.,  comin'.    I  wuz  just  tryin 
see  if  I  could  see  the  houtfit,  but  hit  hain't  wisible.  V 
the  matter,  old  thing-a-my-jig? 
Snow — How  is  your  tumtum? 
Tommy — Hey  ? 

Snow — How  is  your  tumtum? 
Tommy— Oh,  my  tumtum's  hall  right.     Don't  w 
about  that  ole  lady— leastwise,  hit  would  be  alrigh 
hit  wasn't  so  hempty.    Can  you  'urry  along  the  victi 

[224] 


ow  is  your 


rommy  and   /hcodure.)      Or   wou5  vou   raz  er   have 
hard  aclc  wiz  your  beans?     (Dips  tin  cup  imo  pot  and 

/-/•rodof^-^ horrified)    Beg   pa wdon.    Madam    but    I 

us  go  and  see  if  we  cannot  get  a  poached  ege  on  toaVt 
or  something  else,  no  matter  how  plain  5  is  at  the 
nearest  restaurant.     I  couldn't  think  o'f  eatinVanjShing 

hit^^rS^^h^V^"^-  ySf*.'"  '''?^^»°  "'«'*«  the  best  hof 
know       Nn»    h''    "o    Delmonico's    in   these    woods.    I 

Teapot  (despot??*"    ''^"    '''''^'"'    »"»'»    Company'! 
Theodore— Mike  the  best  of  it'    Whv    Trt«,m.,    :*< 
impossible.     Who  ever  heard  of   soup   for  b^eSa 
1  dont  wonder  they  call  it  muck-a-muck      ''"*''*"^- 

mu?kT.j;7ck."H?!'ha''owT  that^o^"'.  "'^t   ^''Vh' 

!tS"'^^'=^^  -^^-^e"o7i"sa.L^;  rl^' 
or  vl  liouih'b?'Th  "?;j  'PPf'**'  ^'^  *^"  aT  my  rJspeS 

T^ttr^z^^  ^'^^^"-  ^  -"eg!"id:-forLre; 

tite^^GuTlJiV"''"  ?°""'*  »".t"fe«-e  with  my  happe- 
Wot  do  vo«  m.^J^'^K^    ^^  ^  ^''^"«"*  "^'"d  from  ?Su. 

rLoJr?  w^  V''*'"  ^°"  "^^^  happetite.^  ^ 

Jhcodore-y^hy,  I  mean  my  desire  for  something  to 

di&T^TnM^n'/    ^''^    American    variety    must    be 

cupsZrfju   ^t"?-  ''^'*  •«  ^«  '^off".     All  ze  ozzer 

rA..dar._Merciful  stars,  defend  me  from  that  sav- 
•A„  .„„,i„„  t„  j^^  ^B^,  restaurant  .y.tem.  of  London. 


[225   I 


age.    The  idea  of  asking  me  to  drink  out  of  the  sai 
utensil  as  my  servant.    Let  us  go  at  once. 

Tomwy— (Who  has  been  stealing  a  mouthful  wh 
opportunity  oflfered.)     Better  not  go  yet,  you  can  'a 
the  first  drink  hif  you  like.    W'y,  that's  nothin'  at  ; 
I  used  to  heat  at  a  kitchen  in  London  w'ere  they 
so  much  custom  that  they  used  to  let  the  reglars  sit  1 
a  long  table  with  one  big  plate  in  front  hof  heach  ma 
and  then  a  cadger  came  hin  with  a  big  squirting  afif 
like  a  syringe.     He  came  to  hus  by  turn  and  has 
squirted  the  stuff  into  the  plate,  'eed  say;  "soup."   I 
we  wanted  hany  we  didn't  say  hanything,  but  hif 
d'dn't  like  that  pertickler  kind  we'd  say,  "Naw,"  and  '< 
suck  it  up  with  the  machine  again  like  this   (Tom 
goes    through    action    with    his    hands    and    makes 
sucking  sound  with  his  mouth)   and  then  pass  on 
the  next.  , 

Theodore — Deah  me,  you  make  me  feel  faint.  Coi 
we  must  go  at  once. 

Tommy— WeW,  Guv.,  hits  a  question  hof  drawing  1 
in  the  woods;  facing  Slim  Jim;  hor  putting  hup  w 
the  ole  ladv's  peculiarities.  Perhaos  the  old  duf 
ain't  so  bad  w'en  you  knows  her  a  while. 

Theodore — "Nose"  her,  indeed.  Oh,  why  did  I  for 
a  French  cook. 

Tommy— Cheer  up,  (jUv.,  I'll  sing  you  a  song 
bring  back  your  happetite. 

(Snow  who  has  been  passing  in  and  out  of  the  t 
at  appropriate  intervals  now  remains  outside  until  s( 
is  over.) 

THE  BOARDIN'   MISSIS'   SMILE. 

Though  I've  been  in  many  lands. 

And  have  passed  through  many  hands, 
In  my  search  for  peace  and  comfort  without  guile 

Yet  I  have  found  out  at  last, 

That  all  joy  in  life  is  past. 
If  you  cannot  make  your  boardin'  missis  smile. 

Though  your  friends  be  of  the  best, 
And  you  sport  a  satin  vest. 
And  at  balls  and  picnics  live  in  highest  style; 


[  226] 


All  your  pomp  will  be  in  vain, 
For  no  real  joy  can  you  gain, 
If  you  cannot  make  your  boardin'  missis  smile. 

When  your  wages  are  increased— 

Say  five  hundred  at  the  least, 
It  may  make  you  feel  quite  happy  for  a  while ; 

But  it  is  not  worth  a  song 

(Though,  of  course,  I  may  be  wrong) 
If  you  cannot  make  your  boardin'  missis  smile. 

If  some  little  Cupid's  dart 

Has  with  love  inflamed  your  heart, 

And  your  lady  takes  it  off  into  exile;  ' 
While  you  wait  your  wedding  morn, 
You  will  wish  you  ne'er  was  born 

If  you  cannot  make  your  boardin    missis  smile. 

If  a  bachelor  you  stay. 

And  you  hoard  your  cash  away. 
Till  at  length  you  have  contrived  to  save  a  file ; 

What  is  all  your  money  worth, 

Is  it  use  for  aught  on  earth 
If  you  cannot  make  your  boardin'  missis  smile? 

So,  young  man,  just  starting  out, 

Take  advice,  and  you,  no  doubt. 
Will  ensure  yourself  real  comfort  by  this  wile; 

If  with  you  the  girls  do  flirt. 

Treat  them  kind,  but  be  alert 
That  you  always  court  the  boardin'  missis*  smile. 

wi  I  nnf^  ^       ^^  "^i'.'  ?°'"«  *°  st"ke  ze  camp  and  you 
will  not  have  somethin'  at  all  to  eat.  ^ 

goPn^STe^t^olos?'"  '^^'"'^^^    ^°'"«'  ^"^•'  ^'  »>-'"'* 

to^o/Sfke'^^f^*?"^^  '^°"""y'  I  *=°»'d  not  lower  myself 
to  partake  of   viands  prepared   by   that   creature.     In 

[227] 


'i 


! 


S 


i. 


future,  since  we  have  no  cook,  we  will  ourselves 
the  necessary  cooking.  But  in  order  to  keep  the  woi 
m  good  humor  as  you  suggest,  you  had  better  take  s< 
of  that — ah — 

Tommy — Beans. 

Theodore— WhWc    I    stroll    around    and    view 
scenery,  don't  you  know. 

Tommy— (Who  has  already  half  finished  his  sh 
pours  Theodore's  part  into  his,  and  says:)  Hall  ri 
Guv.,  since  you  thinks  hit's  best  and  seein'  as  'ow 
hit's  my  bread  and  butter,  there  ain't  hany  use  figh 
with  wot  one  'as  to  heat. 

(Tableau) 

Tommy — Eating   beans,    ravenously. 

Theodore — Horrified,  but  hungry. 

^wM?""^^"  "**  '"  **"*«  chuckling  and  making  sign: 
Willoughby. 

IVilloughbih-Petnng  from  behind  a  tree. 

(Curtain) 


[2281 


ng  signs  to 


ACT  IV-EN  ROUTE  FOR  HOME. 
Scene  1. 

4]^yoltrX\n^T^^^^^^^       iust  out  in  the 
I^^fMhe  cooking  "Uil?  n^fr^^a  ^pt^f  ^JetTc^/- 

tos^i^Te''S"°*  "^^  ^''^  '-«  -e  feeling  after  the 

DkKU^Sh  latS  '""^'^  u^^*^^''-  thank  you  »     Say 

once  in  a  lifefme  a  tenc£S  amusing.  It's  only 
out  knowing  where  his  stoi-ur°"".*^  '^^^°'>  *'th- 
was.  there  5as  no  cabfnTr^Wh/7n"''.^^  *.°«t  °f  i* 
hjs  difficuHy.  ^  *  *°*"    ha"dy  to  hide 

a/othpn  alTm;  chequered  c^«r  V'^.^'^^n^  ^'^^ 
a^[^'d  we|l  miss  the  boa[  byT        "*■  ''*•    ^"*  ''^ 

hours.  When  he  sfw  The  whk?  c^^  °a  ^K^^^  «'"* 
tother  side  of  the  Takoo  he  warned  m/?**  '^t^'J'  «" 

the  Dutch"^-  aled  him'atiJ'^fii°'^„,?"?'^^'  t^^^^  "x^^ts 
I  .was  laying  out  the  LvSns  If  .I""5-^  ago-while 
w'se  to  take  a  run  down  to  dv"^  /?*'  '*'*^"  *  t^'n"*  «t 
a  French  cook  "vihwjtion  again,  to  get 

pole,   for  ?h\t  "^a«e?Jb°efore''tt'^nf  ^  ^°  ^"^  "°«h 
dweadful  Takoo"  again     We  shonin't  "°"  "«  ^^at 
at  his  word  to  go  to  New  YoS  ?i    ''^T*  **^«"  him 
IVUloZ'ht  the  other  side.       ^  ^"^  ^  '*^««'-  ""^e. 
nieet  hfrn^on^i^s/de""  nLJ   P''0'"««d   the   Qp..   I'd 
•t  only  wants  an  hour  if^^'"^  at, watch)    By  George! 
"H-^t  give  the  youth  a  rSrht  /ooTfi°'"l^-^  *'"«='  ^oo.    We 
off  to  windward   like  ail 5  ?**,.''"'^hmg  touch.    Sneak 
^«t  tJe  Indian '?k„J%J  ^X  ^''^f'"^  P"^*  '^'  h^^' 
''^^^^  nie  rustling  toward  Th-  lr;V?      °iL"°'*^  when  you 

f  229  J 


^^^.fcl*"*' 


I 


if  i 


1. 1 


tale  of  woe-if  you  can  make  her  believe  it,  so  much 
the  better-and  then  leave  the  rest  to  yours  truly. 

5no«^Ml  right.  Deacon.  If  those  youngsters  dont 
haveTliigher  opinion  of  miners  after  today  wed 
better  go  out  of  the  business,  but-hush  (Starts   o  go). 

whoughby-By-tht-v/zy,  pard,  you  better  follow  us 
into  the  canoe  when  we  do  get  started.  I've  an  idea 
I  mav  need  you  aboard  ship.  ....       \ 

Snou^-Ctrt.     (Exeunt    in  opposite   directions). 

Scene  II. 
rCamo  in  woods;  Tommy  gathering  logs  and  Theo 
dore  tTying  to  Ugh    the  fire.     Smoke-smoke-no  hm, 
bSt  smoke  is  thi  result,  and  it  blows  contmually   .. 
the  direction  of  Theodore.)  . ,  . 

TWor°-( Discovered  in  shirt-sleeves  and  rubbini 
his  eves  wTth  blackened  hand^  A  Do  you  know  J  ",g> 
this  going  to  Klondike  is  a  .erious  undertaking-Ol 
that  beastly  smoke!  and  to  hear  those  low-down  miner 
talk  we  have  not  begun  yet.  w^v^'avin 

romwv— Don't  you  like  hit,  Guv.?  Were  avin 
lots  hThexperience.  We'll  be  able  to  lead  a  Salvatio 
Armv  oraver  meeting  w'en  we  gets  back. 

Theodore-Exptritncel  I  wish  we  didn't  have  qmt 
so  much.  Weall?,  Tommy,  I  feel  quite  fajnt  do"  t  yo 
know.  I  have  scarcely  had  a  bite  to  eat  since  l  le 
the  steamer  yesterday  noon.  „ 

Tommy-And  the  fishes  got  some  of  that  eh !  Ou 
I  told  vou  this  morning  there  ain't  no  use  fightin  wi 
wot  you  'as  to  heat.  Them  beans  wasnt  so  bad  we 
it  come  to  heatin'  of  them. 

TWor^-Deah  me,  I  wonder  if  there  isnt  son 
way  of  having  a  fire  without  smoke,  don't  you  kn^v 
(rubs  eyes)  Gwacious  me.  How  sore  I  am.  Th 
standing^p  in  a  bog  all  night  has  its  after  effects-B 
I  hope  the  worst  is  over.  , 

rommy-Not  as  I   sees  it.  Guv.,  you  1    ave  to  g 

used    o  a  lot  of  things  before  the  worst  is  over.    W 

tWe  mav  be  another  Takoo  for  all  we  knows. 

rLX.-lAnother  Takoo!    Who  told  you,  Tomm 

Tommy-^o  one  toM  me.  Boss,  I  just  'appened 

menti^rhit.    (smiles)    Wofll  we  'ave  for  supper,  Gu 

^^Theodore-l  don't  know.  Tommy ;  by  the  look  of  t 
fire  we  are  not  liable  to  have  anything^ 

Tommv-Except    smoked    millionaire      Ere     let 
X  it    w'lle  you  does  the  cookm.      (Fixc=  .he  nre. 


fix 


[  230  1 


Theodore— Oh,  deah,  I  wish  I  knew  how  they  make 
"fricassee  chicken." 

Tommy— Hor  hif  we  'ad  some  hof  that  blubber 
them  Injuns  use,  we  misrht  'ave  some  whale  on  toast,  eh  ? 

Theodore— Let  us  see  what  they  left  for  us.  (explores 
box  of  provisions)  Ah— (tasting)  that's  sugar;  (takes 
parcel  out  and  lays  it  on  one  side)  I'm  so  glad  they 
left  us  sugar,  don't  you  know— Ah,  and  that's  olive 
oil— yes,  olive  oil;  and  that's— salt— and  that  vinegar, 
and  rice— and  oatmeal— and— let  me  see— (wry  face) 
that's  soft  soap,  I  think.  Ah,  here  are  some  plates. 
How  thoughtful  (opens  parcel)  why,  no  it  isn't  either, 
It  s  ah — 

Tommy— Hard  tack. 

Theodore— And  that's  mustard— and  that's— weally— 
Tommy,  what  is  this? 

Tommy— Wy,  Guv.,  that's  bacon. 

Theodore— Aw,  so  it  is  (box  getting  empty)  and 
that  s  bacon  powder— and  that's— (smells  bottle  without 
label). 

romm3»— (taking  bottle  and  pulling  cork  and  then 
drinking  heartily)  I  think  hit's  bitters,  Guv.,  (takes 
another  pull  to  see)  'ere  let's  try  again.  Yes  hit's 
bitters— that  s  wot  hit  his. 

Theodore— That's  flour- and  that's  coffee— and  that 
—how  heavy  it  is,  and  it's  the  last  too— Oh,  Tommy. 
Its  beans.  ^ 

Tommy— -Well,  I  spose  we'll  'ave  to  'av  some  hof 
them  now,  eh? 

Theodore— No,  Tommy,  I  must  weally  dwaw  the 
line  somewhere,  and  I  dwaw  it  at  beans. 

Tommy— 'Ows  that.  Guv?  They're  heasy  enough 
cooked,  I  know. 

Theodore— Oi  course  you  cannot  understand  my 
feelings  in  a  matter  of  that  kind,  Tommy.  I  have  been 
brought  up  to  regard  beans  as  a  vewy  vulgar  vegetable 
But  there  is  no  use  casting  pearls  at  swine.  You  lower 
classes  can  never  appreciate  the  advantages  of  refine- 
"Jf"»i,-  "w«. could  only  get  to  the  Klondike  without 
ail  this  abominable,  uninteresting,  (burns  his  fingers 
trying  to  hold  coffee  pot  from  falling  over  the  fire) 
paintul  detail.  I  would  then  show  you  how  very  su- 
perior It  IS  to  have  had  a  college  training. 

fommy-Wdl  Guv.,  (pokes  the  fire)  at  this  rate 
if7°p  /^u^"  hopportumty  hof  testing  your  superior- 
ni'  K  J  j"?'".t  K'cking.  If  yer  pays  up  like  a  man, 
'  II  be  dead  m  it  without  hever  seein'  Klondike.    But. 


[231  ] 


Guv.,  wot's  funny  to  me  is  w'y  you  turned  hup  yei 
nose  w'en  that  Starlitz  wench  hasked  you  to  'ave  anothei 
dance.  That  little  un  was  just  my  size.  She  was  woi 
I  calls  a  topper. 

(Theodore  spills  the  coffee  in  his  disgust,  and  agait 
burns  his  fingers  trying  to  keep  the  contents  fron 
putting  out  the  fire.)  But  say.  Guv.,  yer  likely  to  g{ 
to  bed  without  supper — they  only  gave  hus  a  hour  t( 
get  ready  to  move  again,  and  the  time's  nearly  hup 

Theodore— Oh,  Tommy,  I  cawn't — here,  you  do  th< 
cooking  too,  that's  a  good  fellow. 

rommy—Hall  ri^ht,  Guv.,  seein'  hit's  my  bread  han( 
butter,  I'm  not  gom'  to  fight  with  wot  I  'as  to  heat 
But  'ere's  that  bloke,  Willoughby,  comin'  as  hif  'eed  los 
something.     (Enter   Willoughby.) 

IVilloughby — You  haven't  seen  Slim  Jim's  pipe  any 
where,   have  jrou? 

Willdughby — Well,  that  is  a  blessing  and  no  mis 
take.  There's  bound  to  be  a  necktie  party  in  cam] 
tonight  when  the  pipe  is  found. 

Theodore — ^A  what? 

IVilloughby — A  Ivnching,  I  mean. 

Theodore — But  they  wouldn't  hang  a  man  for  steal 
ing  a  pipe,  even  if  they  did  find  him  out,  would  they 

Willoughby — Hang  him!    I  should  think  they  woulc 
Why,   man,   outside   of    Snow's   monthly  tragedies, 
necktie  party  is  the  only  amusement  the  miners  hav< 

Theodore — Deah,  deah.  You  don't  call  that  an  amuse 
ment,  do  you? 

IVilloughby — Wall,  you  see,  when  men  have  lived  al 
their  lives  in  the  mountains,  they  need  something  o 
that  kind  to  be  more  than  ordinarily  exciting.  Lyncti 
ing  comes  as  natural  to  a  miner  as  lying  to  a  lawyei 
To  give  you  an  instance.  Once  on  a  time  there  was 
miner  got  into  heaven  by  a  fluke,  do  you  understand 

Theodore — Yes,  I  can  venr  well  understand  tiiat. 

IVilloughby — Wall,  when  St.  Peter  came  round  an 
found  him,  he  was  sor^  of  mad  at  first,  but  softened  dowi 
and  promised  to  let  him  remain  if  he  would  refom 
It  went  all  right  for  a  day  or  so,  but  the  miner  grei 
lonesome  for  some  of  his  pals  at  last,  and  one  nigl: 
stole  a  march  on  Gabriel  and  let  the  whole  diggins  i 
before  anyone  could  prevent  him. 

Theodore — What  a  horrid  man. 

Willoughby — ^That's  what  Peter  thought  when  he  sa^ 

[2321 


"Oh  Tommy  my  dear  noble  fellow,  herb  take  the  pipe 
m  YO0R  pocket.    I'm  sure  no  one  would  take  the 

TROUBLE  TO  HANG  A  MERE  VALHT." 

See  page  234 


1„ 


«  1    i 

i 

'- 

It  excitedlv  anH  w«ii-^  »*         •        •   'o<-*'nK  he  opened 

■lJSw'j,  I'fji^ti  ?f  a'AKroZhirvlrV 

cry  was  too  much  for  his  pal5.%hiv  io„U  .oJ^! 

and  heaven  was  itself  again       **"''='''y'  ''''"*  ^^e  door 
rA^odor^-But  that  is  not  true,  surely? 

^^j//o«yA6y_That'll    only   prove    vou    tr^lr   .> 

But  in  Lndon  Svn'  J  .ho°°  5^^  ^^^  got  found  out. 
hand  his  toin'  tn  ifr  ^^^^p  does  romething  wrong 
police         ^   ^    *°  •**  '=*"«*'*'    ee  usually  calls  in   thf 

»  a  thousand  miles  away  "^*'""'  policeman 


[233  ] 


after  it  has  happened.     Fly,  man,  Hy  — 

*  rL«d"r"-BStI  didn't  take  the  P'Pe.  *'""y- 

STAd'r  "^olr  ?Sr.o  ».k.  m.  wah.  . 

£v;B^«anii^ri''J.^^s^^^ 

"  rW»«-Y.,,  l.fs  away.    Oh,  if  I  only  had  i. 
travelling  apparel  here !  .  ^ 

IVilloughby-Bnt  you're  not  80j"8  *°.  flj^  Xrt 
Klondike  expedition,  are  you?  We  have  hardly  star^ 
yet,  and  I  shall  miss  you  so  much.    Do  stay  liKe  a  go 

^^Tfc^o/f«ri._Weally    Mr.  Willoughby,  I.  fear  we  w 

ns  r?it'U.°o  Tn  '.tot  I  ;^«J4,o'„s  Z 

Saturday,   and   we  can   «""'?  '""g^Tnus, 

^„"i^rnor  bs-y^Mr.  ^^^su.";:  .a. 

[2341 


Willoughby — Goodbye,  Mr.  Spoopendike ;  but  it  is 
too  bad  to  break  up  our  friendship  so  abruptly.  I  will 
accompany  you  to  the  steamer.  (All  begin  to  go;  then 
suddenly  Willoughby  turns  and  calls  into  the  woods) 
Hay  there,  Old  Stick-in-the-mud,  if  we  aint  back  to 
supper,  tell  Slim  that  business  of  importance  has  called 
Mr.  Spoopendike  and  valet  to  the  Metrclopis.  Now  then, 
Starlitz,  lead  us  to  the  canoe  (Exeunt  all,  followed  by 
Snow,  still  in  blanket) 

Scene  III — Aboard  Ship. 

Captain — (Discovered  alone  on  deck  of  steamer,  with 
glasses)  Well,  it  was  somewhere  about  here  Dick  told 
me  to  look  for  him.  I  never  knew  the  Deacon  to  fail 
when  it  came  to  gulling  tenderfeet.  I  only  hope  he 
has  had  some  mercy.  (Enter  Aunt  Jemima  with  Izzy 
in  tears)  What's  the  matter  now,  Miss  Lovejoy,  sea- 
sick again? 

Aunt  Jemima — Captain  Rudlin,  Haow  long  do  you 
calculate  it  will  be  before  those  young  sca')e  graces 
get  back  from  the  gold  country? 

Captain — What  makes  you  ask  such  .  question  the 
day  after  they've  gone,  good  woman?  You  don't 
expect  them  back  do  you?  (Aside — I  wonder  did  she 
hear  us  talking). 

Aunt  Jemima — Haow? 

Captain — I  say,  what  makes  you  ask  such  a  question 
the  day  after  they've  gone? 

Aunt  Jemima — It  does  appear  like  trifling  with  your 
nautical  knowledge,  Captain,  but  this  girl  here  is  leading 
me  such  a  life  of  misery  since  young  Spoopendike 
went,  that  I'm  most  crazy.  If  I  thought  the  beans 
they  talk  so  much  about  were  Boston  baked  and  that 
we  could  tote  enough  pumpkin  pie  and  apple  cider  to 
last  us  through,  I  dew  believe  I  might  thmk  of  going 
into  the  mountains  after  him,  especially  as  Mr.  Wil- 
loughby is  their  guide. 

^  Captain — Oh,  is  that  all.  Don't  worry  yourself.  Miss. 
I'll  warrant  he  ain't  worrying  after  you  more  than  he 
ought.  But  he  can't  be  very  far  off  yet,  in  fact,  do 
you  know  (with  a  chuckle)  I've  a  presentiment  that 
he'll  be  aboard  with  us  tonight. 

Isabel — Oh,  Captain,  do  you  think  so?  How  nice  that 
will  be.    If  he  does  we  will— 

Aunt  Jemima— Gtt  married  and  live  happy  ever  after, 
as  the  foolish  story  books  I  read,  when  I  was  a  girl, 
used  to  sav. 


r235  1 


tVilloughby—itrom  without)  Ship  ahoy!  ship  »hoy 

Captain— My  presentiment  has  materialized. 

(Enter  Willoughby  and  party). 

//afrW— (Rushing  to  meet  Theodore)  Oh,  Theedy 
mv  love,  I  knew  you  could  not  stay  away  from  me 
(locked  in  each  other's  arms). 

Theodore— No,  dawling,  I  had  to  come,  don't  you 
know. 

Willoughby— Thit's  straight  goods,  Miss,  (with  t 
wink  at  the  Captain)  he  had  to  come.  It  was  utterl) 
impossible  for  him  to  stay  longer.  (Starlitz  hangs  or 
to  Theodore  somewhat  jealously.) 

Aunt  Jemima— Izxy,  dear,  dew  not  be  too  familiar 
Who  is  that  native  person,  Mr.  Spoopendike? 

Theodore— Aw— it— ah  (aside  to  Tommy),  Answei 
her  for  heaven's  sake,  and  get  me  out  of  this  scrape 

Tommy— (In  stage  whisper  to  Theodore)  Hall  right, 
Guv.,  seein", hit's  my  bread  hand  butter  I  don't  see  han> 
use  hphtin'  with  wot  I  'as  to  heat,  (aloud)  W'v,  yoti 
see,  old  lady,  she's  Starlitz— my  sweetheart,  and  she's 
trying  to  induce  the  Guvnor  'ere  to  sign  the  check  for  a 
thousand  dollars  which  'ee  oromised  to  give  'er  if  she 
married  me;  ain't  that  so,  Guv.? 

r/iforfor^— Well— I— ah— expect  that  must  be  it 
(Starlitz  does  not  see  the  point,  and  Theodore  says 
to  Tommy  again:  Do  take  her  away.  Tommy). 

Tommy— Yon  'aven't  got  the  check  'andy,    a\ 
Guv.? 

Theodore— Oh  yes,  certainly,  ah — 

Starlitz — Don't  you  want  dance  me  again,  Mistah 
Ninkumpoop — me  save  you — me. 

Theodore— {\n  growing  distress)  Not  just  now, 
dawling— 1  mean  woman — (aside)  Oh,  Tommy,  here's 
the  check,  keep  her  auiet  while  I'm  writing  it  and  I'll 
double  your  salary  too. 

Tommy — Make  it  payable  at  Juneau.  I've  han  hidea. 
I'll  stop  ere  and  take  'er  in  tow  just  to  oblige  you.  Guv, 

Theodore— Ctrt&inly,  certainly,  but  oh  keep  her  quiet. 

Tommy — You  see.  Captain  and  ladies,  this  ere  wench 
is  the  future  queen  of  the — wot  do  you  call  'em, 
Willoughby  ? 

Willoughby — (highly  amused)  The  Jim  Jams,  do 
you  mean? 

Tommy — Yes,  the  Jim  Jams — and  with  the  princely 
hoffer  hof  ha  fortune,  w'ich  'is  Ryal  'Ighness  his  heven 
now  writin'  hout,  I  will  be  the  'appiest  man  hin  Halaska 
— not  to  mention  being  king  w'en  'er  old  man  croaks. 


ave  you, 


[  2361 


(Goes  up  and  chucks  Starlitz  under  the  chin,  which  she 
takes  m  good  part  )    'Ere.  Ducky,  III  dance  yer  a  round 

°''u.*°lJ'^*  ^^  ^"*  '*!'  *'"'^"  "'Kht,  just  to  show  the 
ightoned    folks    ow    haccomplishcd    you    hare       Now 

/u**"*  ^^'^-    ■'"*'  "'^^'  o"  '*'  hf^ur  curve,  will  yer? 

(Here  Tommy  leads  Starlitz  out  and  after  a  dance 
sm^s  a  verse  in  the  chorus  of  which  Starlitz  joins  and 
again  dances,  etc.,  to  end  of  song.) 

I'M  GOING  TO  WED  A  PRINCESS. 

I'm  going  to  wed  a  princess : 

Some  day  she'll  be  a  queen ; 
And  then  I'll  be  her  consort 

With  all  that  that  may  mean. 
I'll  sit  upon  a  golden  throne. 

And  smile  on  Royal  Dames; 
And  when  her  pater  turns  his  toes, 

I'll  rule  the  great  Jim  Jams. 

CHOSUS 

When  we  are  the  Jim  Jam  king  and  queen, 
We'll  raise  old  Cain  with  ardor  keen 
Likewise  the  golden  calf; 
We'll  make  our  subjects  eat  our  foes, 
And  with  our  friends  we'll  drown  our  woes 
In  glorious  'alf  'n    alf. 

Her  father  is  a  monarch — 

(Another   name  for   king) 
His  fathers  ruled  the  Jitn  Jams 

Since  time  first  took  the  wing; 
But  now  he's  growing  hoary 

So,  as  his  daughter's  spouse, 
When  he  has  gone  to  glory 

I'll  take  the  Kingly  vows. 


[237  ] 


Her  mother — (recitative)     But   I   forgot  all 
about  her  mother.     For  heaven's  sake,  Starlitz,  break 
the  news  gently.    Is  your  mother  dead? 
Starlitz — Yes. 

Her  mother's  in  a  coffin 

Within  the  Royal  tomb; 
Her  angel  voice  is  silenced 

And  buried  deep  in  gloom. 
Long  ere  her  daughter  married 

She  mingled  with  the  blest — 
And  quite  resigned  the  mourners  weep— 

Whatever  is  is  best. 

Her  i  subjects  are  devoted — 

At  least  they  soon  will  be; 
When  she  is  queen  and  I  am  king 

They'll  have  a  jubilee. 
They'll  gorge  themselves  with  salmon  heads, 

They'll  swim  in  blubber  fat, — 
But  when  she's  queen  and  I  am  king — 

Who  cares  a  fig  for  that. 


CHORUS 

When  we  are  the  Jim  Jam  king  and  queen, 
We'll  raise  old  Cain  with  ardor  keen 

And  milk  the  Klondike  calf; 
We'll  make  our  subjects  eat  our  foes, 
And  with  our  friends  we'll  drown  our  woes 

In  glorious  'alf  'n  'alf. 

(Starlitz  sings  a  high  note  in  closing  last  chorus  and 
Tommy  stops  to  listen  in  amazement.) 

Tommy — W'y,  I  thought  you  were  an  uncivilized 
savage? 

Starlitz — Zat  is  what  zay  call  me. 

Tommy— Well  they're  wrong.  Only  civilized  savages 
sing  like  that. 

[  238  J 


ot  all 
break 


ads, 


;n, 

oes 

us  and 
vilized 

avages 


Aunt  Jemima— Well,  dew  tell.  What  a  right  cute 
little  fellow  that  Britisher  do  be. 

Isabel— Oh  Theedy,  dear.  It  is  just  like  the  brave, 
generous  cr'^ature  you  are  to  make  others  happy.  I  just 
don't  know  how  anyone  can  help  lovii^  you. 

Theodore — Yes,  dawling. 

Isabel— But,  Theedy,  was  it  love  at  first  sight  between 
Mr.  Tompkins  and  the  princess? 

pyUloughby — (after  awkward  pause)  Only  partly, 
Miss — you  see — 

Theodore — (aside)  Oh,  Mr.  Willoughby,  I  shall  pay 
you  well  for  your  services  as  guide,  don't  you  know, 
but  be  careful — oh  so  careful. 

IVilloughby — Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  it  was 
a  case  of  ]oving  a  mountain  first  but  getting  shaken  oflF 
into  the  valley. 

Isabel — I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  sir,  but  it  must 
have  been  nice — all  love  is  so  nice.  Theedy  dear,  I 
have  missed  you  so  much ;  I  have  scarcely  had  a  wink 
of  sleep  since  we  parted. 

Theodore — Same  here,  dawling;  me  too. 

Isabel — Did  you  have  any  adventures  while  you  were 
at  Klondike? 

Theodore — Well,  I  should  say  so.  I'm  going  to  write 
a  book  about  them,  don't  you  know.    (More  embraces.) 

Aunt  Jemima— Sakes  alive,  Captain  Rudlin,  this  is 
getting  very  high-Sluting.  It  reminds  me  of  old  times 
(looks  sheepishly  at  Willoughby).  I'm  beginning  to 
feel  just  as  spruce  as  if  I  were  a  young  girl  again. 

Captain — Yes,  I'm  married  myself,  but  I  know  just 
how  you  feel. 

Tommy — Say  Captain,  (growing  desirous  of  proving 
his  new  fortunes)  can't  you  do  the  business  up?  I 
know  some  captains  has  can  splice  ha  chap  hand  th-^y're 
not  a  bit  bettern  you. 

Isabel — Oh  yes.  Captain,  you  can  marry  people,  can't 
you?     How  nice  that  would  be. 

Theodore — Oh,  you  weally  must  excuse  me,  but  I'm 
not  dwessed  for  the  occasion. 

Willoughby — But  it  isn't  your  clothes  gets  married, 
Mr.  Spoopendike.  {Aside)  Look  here,  if  you  don't  be 
sociable  I'll  have  to  mention  how  you  spoiled  your  dress 
suit. 

Theodore— {aside  Oh,  Mr.  Willoughby,  be  merciful). 
Isabel,  my  dawling,  if  the  Captain's  willing,  so  am  I. 

Isabel—So  am  I. 

Tommy— So  am  I. 


[  239  ] 


Starlits — (after  persuasive  actions  on  part  of  Tommy) 
So  am  I. 

Captain — Well  since  you  four  are  willing.  Isn't  there 
any  one  else?  While  I'm  in  the  way  I  might  as  well 
fix  up  six  as  four.     (Looking  hard  at  Willoughby.) 

Willoughby — Cap.,  you  seem  to  mean  me.  I  have  been 
a  widower  for  so  long  I've  most  got  used  to  it. 

(Theodore  stares.) 

But  since  she's  from  Old  Massachusetts  and  reminds 
me  so  much  of  Maria— (looks  sweetly  at  Aunt  Jemima.) 

Aunt  Jemima— Really,  I  thought  I  had  gotten  over 
such  foolishness,  but  Mr.  Willoughby  is  so  like  my  dear 
Hezekiah. 

Tommy— Hit's  heazy  seein'  the  old  lady's  deaf,  Guv., 
hor  helse  'Ezekiah  wuz  used  to  tellin'  some  unearthly 
w'oppers. 

Aunt  Jemima — (Sings) 

i      THE  WIDOW'S  SONG 

I've  been  a  widow  many  years 

I've  bathed  my  grief  in  seas  of  tears — 

I've  shunned  all  joy: 
But  still  I  live  a  wid->w  lone — 
The  grave  sends  back  no  answering  moan 

No  hopes  decoy; 
Till  now  I  wonder  is  it  right 
That  I  should  rob  my  life  of  light? 


Tho'  I  loved  Hezekiah 

He's  now  dead  and  gone; 
Why  should  I  not  marry 

His  loss  to  atone? 
Why  should  I  not  hearken 

To  one  who  loves  me, 
And  seal  a  new  life  lease 

With  nuptial  glee? 


There's  those  who  say  it  is  not  true 
For  widows  to  consort  anew — 

It  wrongs  the  dead: 
But  after  all  is  said  and  done 

[  240] 


What  cares  the  dead  the  pace  we  run? 

In  last  long  bed 
They  dreamless  lie  nor  seek  to  cheer 
The  life  their  death  left  sad  and  drear. 

And  once  we've  found  what  marriage  means — 
Have  had  a  peak  behind  the  scenes 

And  proved  its  worth: 
It  is  a  compliment  for  sure 
That  we  no  longer  can  endure 

The  loved  one's  dearth; 
But  straight  pick  out  another  spouse 
To  whom  we  may  renew  love's  vows. 

In  the  last  chorus  Willoughby  joins  as  follows: 
WILLOUGHBYS  CHORUS 

Tho'  I  loved  sweet  Maria 

She's  now  dead  and  gone; 
Why  should  I  not  marry 

Her  loss  to  atone? 
Why  should  I  not  hearken 

To  one  who  loves  me, 
And  seal  a  new  life  lease 

With  nuptial  glee? 

Theodore— I  forbid  the  banns. 

H'illoughby-^\\  hat  about  the  ball  and  the  snipe  shoot- 
ing and  the  pipe  incident  and — 

TA^odor^— (tragically)  It  matters  not,  villain.  Since 
she  is  to  be  a  relative  of  mine,  even  though  Slim  Jim 
and  his  revolver  were  here,  I  would  not  see  her  marry 
a — bigamist. 

Aunt  Jemima — Ow — 

Snow — (who  has  been  in  background  unnoticed) 
This  is  where  I  fit  in  isn't  it? 

Theodore— Yes,  my  future  i  d  vewry  respected 
relative  this  creature  ah — is  that  man's — 

5"now^(  throwing  oflf  female  disguise)    Partner. 

Tommy— Sold  again  and  got  the  money.  Say,  Guv., 
they've  been  aguying  hof  you  right   hand  left. 

Theodore— Well  did  you  ever !  Weally,  Aunt,  I  have 
[  241  ] 


-.i^£g»asi. 


been  misinformed.     I  withdraw  my  objection  on  one 
solitary  condition. 

Aunt  Jemima — "j 

and  VAnd  that  is? 

Willoughby —     J 

Theodore — That  when  we  get  back  to  civilization, 
you  will  help  me  keep  the  secret  of  how  Tenderfeet  are 
treated  in  Alaska. 

All — Agreed. 

Curtain, 

(H  the  lowering  of  the  curtain  meets  with  sufficient  applause 
to  justify  a  longer  performance  the  following  epilogue  may  be 
recited  by  Stmt 


EDUCATED   AT   COLLEGE 

Once  on  a  time,  a  farmer  from  down  East, 
Who,  with  his  wife,  two  sons  and  a  daughter, 
Had  struggled  for  years  to  scrape  a  living 
From  a  resisting  farm  in  the  mountain!. 
Opined,  that,  if  wealth  failed  him  as  a  whole, 
It  was  indeed  a  shabby  family 
That  could  not  afford  at  least  ONE  gentleman. 

With  this  in  mind,  he  and  his  household  saved  enough 
To  send  the  younger  of  the  two  sons  to  school. 
And  while  he  was  gone  many  sacrifices 
Were  required  of  the  home  folks  to  fulfill 
His  many  needs  and  help  him  win  a  degree. 
But  at  last  it  was  won,  and  the  young  man 
Broadened  by  contact  with  the  world,  returned 
To  the  old  one-roomed  cabin  of  his  boyhood 
To  meet  those  from  whom  he  had  so  long  been  parted. 


They  all  felt  proud  of  th'^  young  collegian, 
And  with  their  pride  a  sort  of  modesty 
Had  arisen,  that,  when  it  came  time  to  retire, 
Made  it  needful  to  blow  out  the  candle 
Ere  they  disrobed — a  nicety  about  which 
They  had  not  always  been  so  careful. 

[  242  ] 


one 


tion, 
are 


lause 
y  be 


)Ugh 


rted. 


The  father  first  reached  for  the  candle. 
Several  times  he  tried  to  extinguish  it.    But, 
Owing  to  his  heavy  moustache  and  a  chin 
That  receded  too  abruptly,  when  he  blew, 

(Whew)!! 
The  wind  went  down,  and  the  light  still  flickered. 

The  mother,  seeing  his  failure,  came  forward 
And,  taking  the  candlestick  in  her  Ions  bony  fingers, 
Prepared  to  make  short  work  of  the  blowing. 
But  she,  too,   was  in  trouble      She  had  lost 
Many  of  her  upper  teeth  in  the  great 
Struggle  for  existence ;  with  the  result 
That  when  she  blew, 

(Whew)!! 

the  current  of  wind  went  up. 

The  older  son  then  made  shift  to  be  useful, 
But  years  of  incessant  tobacco  chewing 
Had  so  screwed  up  bis  face  to  the  left  side 
That  when  he  blew,  as  he  did  with  a  gusto 

(Whew)!! 
His  breath  went  forcibly  in  that  direction. 
And  the  undisturbed  flambeau  still  twinkled. 

Next  the  daughter,  shocked  at  so  many  failures 
And  growing  nervous  at  the  ridiculous  delay, 
Grasped  the  glimmer  firmly  to  try  her  turn. 
She  was  an  old  maid,  (involuntarily 
However)  and  in  her  maidenly  desire 
To  oe  considered  attractive,  had  allowed 
What  might  be  described  as  "an  eternal  smile," 
To  warp  her  otherwise  beautiful  countenance. 
She,  too,  blew 

(Whew)!! 
but  the  wind  went  vainly  to  the  right. 


[  2A3  1 


Now  only  the  collegian  was  left. 
He,  smiling  at  the  absurd  sittiation, 
But  recognizing  that  it  was  up  to  him. 
Made  one  effective  puff 

(Whew) !  I 

and  out  went  the  light. 

The  four  onlook  rs,  seeing  his  quick  success, 
Fairly  beamed,  from  the  newly  made  darkness, 
As  they  uttered  with  one  accord:  "Dew  tell!" 
"Isn't  it  great  to  have  A  COLLEGE  EDUCATION?" 


[2441 


ght. 


\r 


. 


